


Going the Distance: The Hands and the Heart

by Kupow



Series: Persona 5: Going the Distance AU [7]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sports, Boxing & Fisticuffs, College, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26601682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kupow/pseuds/Kupow
Summary: “You’ve worked hard for this, kid. You’re one the best boxers I’ve ever trained… I love you like a son. But this fight isn’t going to be about the strength or speed of your hands. It’s going to be about your heart. You know what a champion is, kid?It’s someone who fought one more round. It’s someone who got up when they couldn’t.”-Coach Shinji TakedaRen Amamiya is the former leader of the Phantom Thieves, the group that took back humanity’s future and defeated the God of Control. Now, with his high school life behind him, the one-time Trickster needs to juggle his relationship with Ann, his education, family, and his ambition - to become the best boxer he can be, and to claim the title of ‘Champion’.Takes place in the Going the Distance AU after the epilogue (‘Going the Distance: Extra Rounds’) and before the oneshot ‘Love You Forever’
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Takamaki Ann, Iwai Kaoru/Original Female Character(s), Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann, Niijima Makoto/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Takamaki Ann, Suzui Shiho/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Persona 5: Going the Distance AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594675
Comments: 28
Kudos: 49





	1. Tomato Can

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious required reading before this is P5: Going the Distance and Extra Rounds (please see series page!)
> 
> Updates will take longer than readers of GtD might be used to; after all, this is relatively uncharted territory and I don't have the 'backbone' of the P5 story to follow along.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In boxing, not everyone can be a champion, contender, or promising rookie._
> 
> _The journeyman boxer is an individual who has attained a level of skill expected of a professional boxer, but is acknowledged as lacking in some way. They will never be contenders; they will never be champions. They float from gym to gym, from trainer to trainer, taking on any fight that’s thrown in their direction in order to make enough money to get by and to keep the dream alive a little longer._
> 
> _Some journeymen begin to regard themselves as being nothing but a ‘body for better men to beat on’. The term ‘tomato can’ refers to the extreme of this - a boxer who is considered an easy opponent, a guaranteed win._
> 
> _“Why do we call ‘em tomato cans? Knock ‘em over, and red stuff spills out. It’s all they’re good for.”_  
>  \- Anonymous promoter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JBC - Japanese Boxing Commission. Technically part of the WBC (World Boxing Commission), but fighters in the JBC aren't considered WBC ranked until they're JBC champion/formally start taking WBC fights. Essentially, winning a JBC title makes you big in Japan only.
> 
> Gazelle Punch - Leaping shovel hook.
> 
> Harada, Pacquiao, Mayweather, Robinson, Ali - Some of the greatest fighters of all time. Harada not as much as the others (unless you're strongly biased to Japanese boxing :) )
> 
> Sakki - hostile intent, sometimes translated as 'bloodlust'. Something that makes a feint feel real
> 
> Cutman - Trainer responsible for stopping bleeding/swelling. This is Kaname's original role for Ren as part of his training team; she did it for him back in Kamakura, also when he was with Shujin. She insists on continuing, obviously.
> 
> English speech is in **bold face.**

April 27, 2018 (Friday) 

Nishiwaseda was a lively, artsy neighborhood, largely populated by the students attending nearby Waseda University. Today, it was busier than usual. After all, classes had finished for the day only an hour earlier, signalling the start of Golden Week - nine consecutive days off for the students of one of Japan’s more demanding universities to actually relax and have a little fun. A time for everyone to forget their worries.

Almost everyone.

Ann chopped vegetables in her apartment. The place that only a few weeks earlier had been so full of life, love, and promise, was now eerily quiet. The silence was interrupted only by the gentle _tok-tok-tok_ of her knife against the cutting board. It was a beautiful knife; one that Ren had rescued from a secondhand store, polished and sharpened to a razor’s edge.

 _‘Nothing more dangerous in a kitchen than a dull knife, Songbird.’_ He’d say, with that beautiful smile of his. _‘Well, except Shiho.’_

Ann smiled a little at the memory before sighing quietly. Ren loved this knife; he loved cooking for their meals for two in their shared apartment, back when he was still able to. Over the past few weeks, it had been up to Ann to cook, and now… She bit her lip, briefly pausing in her food prep as she let out a shaky breath.

Now she only had to worry about meals for one.

There was a soft knock on the door. Ann put down her knife, washing her hands and drying them on her apron before opening it.

Shiho smiled at Ann, holding a few shopping bags. “Hey, Blondie.”

Ann gave her best friend a quick hug. “Hey, Shiho. Come on in.”

Shiho kicked off her shoes; she glanced around the apartment. The place was very much a combination of Ren and Ann’s tastes. The furniture and fittings were highly functional. For example, a lift-top coffee table with hidden storage, floating shelves installed on the wall, complete with empty shelves for Mona when he visited. A ‘catwalk’, as Ren was wont to say. But softening the clean lines and utility was Ann’s touch. Pictures of the couple and their beloved friends; wonderfully comfortable throw pillows and rugs; keepsakes from their dates. Even though they had only lived together for a couple weeks, the place seemed lived-in. Cozy.

Shiho helped Ann in putting away the groceries she had picked up. “...You holding up okay, Ann? It’s going to be pretty lonely around here…”

Ann bit her lip, nodding. “Y-yeah. It’ll be alright. It’s just temporary, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re going to be apart forever. And look! I’m cooking his favorite, so--”

“Enough.” Shiho said, closing her eyes. The ravenette medical student clenched her fists, taking a deep breath.

“Shiho?” Ann blinked.

“I said that’s _enough_ , Ann!” Shiho snapped, dramatically slamming her palms down on the kitchen island. “How long are you going to pretend like this?! Ren’s gone, and there’s nothing any one of us can do about it to bring him back!”

“Shiho! What are you saying?-- !!”

Shiho walked around the counter, grabbing Ann by her shoulders. Her dark eyes seemed to shine with unshed tears; her hands almost trembled as they held her best friend. She spoke in a quivering voice, barely holding it together. “He’s gone, Ann… He’s gone, and it kills me to see you acting like he’s just going to come back like nothing happened. I’m not saying you can’t grieve… But please. Please, stop pretending. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“Shiho…” Ann murmured, wide-eyed. “I don’t understand--”

“Ann…” Shiho sighed, her shoulders drooping. She looked down at the floor. “I know this is inappropriate. I know it has to be too soon for you. But I can’t keep this bottled up anymore, Ann. Do you know why this is hurting me so much? I’ve been here for you this whole time, and you just haven’t seen it. You haven’t seen how much I love you…”

“S...Shiho. That’s silly. I know you love me.” Ann stammered. “I… I really care about you, too!”

Shiho looked up. She shook her head. “No, Blondie. Not that kind of love… Do you know how hard it’s been for me? I kept telling myself, as long as you were happy. That’s why I kept it to myself when Ren was around. That’s why I ran into Ryoichi’s arms. But… But now…”

She pulled Ann closer, tilting her head slightly to the side as she closed her eyes.

“!! Holy… Shiho! What are you doing?!” Ann recoiled, her face instantly turning red.

“Ssh. Just… let me kiss away your sadness, Ann…” Shiho murmured.

One of the fluffy throw pillows that decorated the plush sofa sailed into the kitchen, smacking into the side of Shiho’s face and interrupting the drama.

“Have some respect for the dead!” Ren groaned, waking up from his nap. He draped himself over the back of the couch, smiling wryly at Shiho. “Hey, Shiho.”

Shiho flashed a cheeky grin at Ren. “Hey, Champ. I figured something like that would bring you back from the dead. Fighting the good fight?”

Ren stood up, his afternoon nap finished. He stretched his arms over his head with a yawn. “You know it. Coach Shinoda has me working pretty hard. Between training and school, I haven’t even had time to cook lately.”

“I’ll say. Whenever I drop by, you’re passed out on that couch.” Shiho wolf-whistled as Ren’s shirt rode up, revealing some of the results from his intensive training in preparation for his first pro match. He was already fit when he was a high school student; now, the college freshman was quite clearly a pro athlete. “Working _hard_ is a pretty accurate assessment--hey!”

Ann flicked water at Shiho. “Does Kurosawa-kun know that you act like this? Honestly, Shiho!”

Shiho grinned impishly. “He knows where my heart is. Besides, you know that I only do it to annoy my bestie.”

Ren walked over to the kitchen, giving Ann a kiss on the cheek. He picked up a spoon, reaching for the bubbling pot on the stove. “Smells good. What’s for dinner--ouch!”

Ann lightly smacked his hand with a wooden spoon. “Not that, Wildcard. Everyone’s bringing food over soon.That’s curry that I’m going to parcel out and put in the freezer for you while I’m away. And yes, before you ask, it all fits into the meal plan that Shinoda-san gave you.”

Shiho took a seat at the kitchen island, sipping at a can of Coke Zero from the refrigerator. “How long are you going to be gone for, anyway?”

“Pretty much all of Golden Week.” Ann said. “I’m flying out tomorrow morning for Dublin.”

“Heh. It’s really happening. Ann Takamaki, international fashion model.” Shiho raised her drink in salute. She looked at Ren. “Are you going to be alright, Champ? Ever since you two moved in together, you’ve both been annoyingly clingy.”

“We’re not annoyingly clingy.” Ann protested.

Shiho scoffed. “What are you doing, _right now_?”

Ann blinked. She had casually slipped her hand into the back pocket of Ren’s jeans as they stood side by side. Ren had his arm around her waist.

“...Okay, we’re a _little_ clingy.” Ann allowed.

Ren chuckled. “It’ll be difficult. I’ll miss Ann, but we’ll FaceTime whenever we can. I think we’re both going to be pretty busy, anyway. I have to train… Not to mention, I have a few papers to write, and Lala-chan needs me at Crossroads.”

“And aside from the fashion show, I have a few other photo shoots, an interview, and some work for my classes as well.” Ann said. She frowned, looking up at Ren. “You’re not going to overdo it while I’m gone, are you? I didn’t make all of these meals just so you could spend more time running yourself ragged.”

“I won’t, Songbird.” Ren gave Ann a little squeeze. “I stepped away from helping out Shujin and Waseda’s boxing teams, didn’t I?”

“Only after I noticed you falling asleep in class, Wildcard.” Ann sighed. “Honestly, I can’t even blame Kana-chan or Waseda’s head trainer. _You_ were the one who offered to help coach.”

Ren shrugged. “Shujin Boxing means a lot to me. And I still feel a little bad about Waseda. Before I committed to going pro, they thought they were going to have me on the team. I thought the least I could do was help coach a bit.”

“Don’t worry, Blondie. We’ll all keep tabs on the Champ while you’re gone.” Shiho gave Ann a wink and finger gun. Her phone chimed. “Oh! That’s Mako-chan. She says that she and RyuRyu ran into everyone else at the station. They’re almost here.”

The quiet apartment became lively and crowded as the three were soon joined by Ryuji, Makoto, Haru, Yusuke, Mona, and Futaba, all bringing in food or drinks to share.

“Nice digs, RenRen!” Ryuji grinned. He walked over to the punching bag suspended in the corner of the living room, giving it a few quick jabs. “I’m surprised Ann let you put this thing up in here.”

“ _Let_ me? Please.” Ren scoffed. “What do you take me for?”

Ryuji smirked. “I take you as being whipped. Completely.”

“Calling the kettle black much?” Ren held up his phone. The lock screen background was still Ryuji wearing Sae’s frilly pink apron as he dutifully cooked for Makoto during her entrance exams.

“Bro! It’s been over a year! Can’t you change that?!” Ryuji fruitlessly grasped at Ren’s phone.

“Isn’t _your_ lock screen still the animated gif of Songbird slapping my glasses off when I got out of prison?” Ren placed his hand on Ryuji’s face, holding him back.

“Ith’s a claffic!” (It’s a classic!) Ryuji shot back, laughing even as his voice was muffled by having his cheek squished.

“Ryuji…” Makoto sighed.

“Wildcard.” Ann raised her eyebrow. One hand was on her hip, the other still held that wooden spoon.

Ren and Ryuji froze. They exchanged glances and sheepish grins, looking at their partners before speaking simultaneously.

“Sorry.”

Indeed, both boys might have been referred to as ‘whipped’ by jealous onlookers. But the benefits were far too good to complain.

The group laughed and chatted as they sat down to eat and catch up. They had all been busy at their respective schools. This impromptu housewarming party was in fact the first time the former Phantom Thieves (the group had long since given up any pretense of Shiho’s ‘plausible deniability’) had all been together since the graduation ceremony and after party in March.

“So how’s second year going, Futaba-chan?” Haru asked.

Futaba looked up from her laptop, where she was either optimizing Ren and Ann’s television/gaming set-up, or establishing permanent surveillance in their apartment. “Hm? Oh, great. I finished doing the reading yesterday.”

“Ah. You mean your homework for Golden Week? How diligent.” Yusuke nodded.

Futaba waved a hand, continuing to type away. “No, for the entire year. Easy-peasy!”

Makoto shook her head with a little smile. “I know we used to rely on _my_ memory for things, but I suspect Futaba’s on a whole other level…”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Futaba flashed a cheeky grin. A far cry from their first year together, the orange-haired girl was now completely comfortable with her remarkable mind. She was far removed from the days where she worried that her mind would isolate her and scare people off. After all, she had an entire found family who loved her for all of her quirks.

Ryuji shrugged. “Eh. It’s not like you can surprise us anymore, Futaba. I mean, didn’t you already get through most of the books before the end of first year?”

“I might have a few more things up my sleeve, Ryuji.” Futaba reached behind the television, frowning. “Ren-nii, you should _really_ organize these cables better.”

“What kind of things?” Ryuji asked curiously.

“Do you have any zip ties?” Futaba asked Ren. “And Ryuji, you should really look at line eighty-two of that paper you’re working on before you submit it.”

Ryuji’s eyes bulged. He whipped out his phone, quickly checking. “What… ...How…?!”

Shiho laughed, patting Futaba’s head as she took a seat on the floor beside her heir-apparent. “You shouldn’t poke the adorable orange-haired bear, RyuRyu. Come on, Gremlin. Enough fiddling with the television. Time to eat something other than ramen.”

“Ah, just a sec… There we go!” Futaba triumphantly hit a key on her laptop. The television turned on, playing a recorded boxing match. Ren perked up.

“Oh! Thanks, Gremlin. Is that Dynamite Glove?” Ren asked, before munching on a slice of pizza.

“Mmhm! Even found extra footage of that Take Yoshio guy you were asking about.”

“Take Yoshio?” Haru took a seat facing the television, leaning comfortably against Yusuke on the couch.

Ren sat down on their small loveseat, joined quickly by Ann. The model propped her legs comfortably up on Ren’s lap, handing him a can of Okumura brand iced coffee.

“My opponent for my debut as a pro boxer.” Ren said.

“Nice!” Ryuji grinned. “When did you find out for sure?”

“About two months ago, Ryuji. The fight’s on the last day of Golden Week, on the sixth of May.”

Makoto frowned. “Just two months? Is that typical? I was under the impression that professional boxers had more time to prepare than that.”

“It’s less unusual for someone with a C-class license, Makoto. New and lesser known boxers aren’t like champions who fight once or twice per year.” Ren said. “It should be fine, though. Even though we didn’t know who exactly I was going to be fighting until two months ago, we knew my first fight would be around Golden Week. I’ve been training hard.”

“License? You require a license to fight professionally?” Yusuke asked. “And you’re forced to start from ‘C’, despite your high school record?”

“That’s right. As far as the professional world goes, I’m still considered a novice.” Ren sipped his coffee. “C-class fighters are limited to four-round bouts; B-class six. A-class fighters can fight in full twelve-round bouts.”

“So what do you know about your first victim?” Ryuji said.

“Another relatively new boxer.” Ren said, as Futaba brought up footage of Yoshio’s fights on the television. “2-2-1 in professional fights. Both of his wins were by knockout, and the two losses were by decision.”

On the screen, a burly Japanese man in his twenties faced down his opponent in an orthodox stance. His guard was sloppy, though - his faster opponent threw punch after punch, several of them slipping through and catching Yoshio cleanly. His dark brown hair was a mess; his right eye was quickly swollen shut.

“Whoa. He’s gettin’ killed…” Ryuji said.

“Wait for it…” Ren murmured.

Yoshio stumbled; his opponent moved to finish him. Instead, he lashed out with a vicious right straight, catching the other boxer in the chin. He fell bonelessly to the canvas - the referee immediately waved his arms, calling for the bell. The match was over.

Makoto blinked. “That punch…”

“Figured you’d catch it, Makoto.” Ren said. “I looked into it. He’s got a karate background. His right straight is similar to a _seiken_ , and is just as powerful and sharp. In fact, each of his wins has been a turnaround KO after taking a beating from his opponent. Minoru-san says those are the only two redeeming qualities of his boxing. His ‘chin’ and the power of his right.”

“So how did he end up as your opponent, Ren-kun?” Haru asked.

“Yoshio’s coach and Coach Shinoda are acquaintances. Yoshio needs to fight - he’s at something of a crossroads. The power of his punch and strength of his chin are undeniable, but he can’t quite put it all together. They wanted to see if pitting him against a ‘motivated rookie’ might light a fire under him. It’s a good opportunity for me, too. Even though there isn’t a lot of prep time, it means my first pro fight’s going to be on the undercard for a JBC championship.” Ren rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “ It should be a good match. He’s going to be pretty motivated too. If he can’t start stringing together some wins, his gym might decide to move on.”

Ann tilted her head curiously. “Move on…?”

“Yoshio fights out of Imaoka, a smaller gym here in town. They can’t afford to carry another journeyman boxer - someone who can put up a fight, but never really string together wins.” Ren said. “If they don’t think they have a winner on their hands, they might decide to spend their time and resources on another fighter.”

“...That’s horrible.” Ann frowned. Her eyes widened. “Could that ever happen to you?”

Ren squeezed Ann’s knee, flashing a confident grin. “I’ll try my hardest to make sure it doesn’t, Songbird. But I’d be lying to you if I said there’s no chance. At its top level, pro boxing is glamorous, dangerous, lucrative, and unforgiving. At the bottom of the ladder…”

Ren paused, watching as Yoshio lost by decision on the television. As the young man left the ring, he seemed to exchange sharp words with his coach. Eventually, his coach threw his towel at his fighter and left the ring ahead of him.

“It’s mostly just dangerous and unforgiving.”

>>>

“A one-two to finish, Take-kun!”

Take Yoshio breathed sharply in time with his jab and straight. The jab was sharp; his trainer, a clean-shaven, middle-aged bespectacled man, winced as the right straight pummeled his hitting mitt, finishing their evening training session in Imaoka Gym.

“Nice! Take a break.”

“Thanks, Hashino-san.” Take panted. He went to the corner of the ring and pulled his hand out of his glove, running it through his spiky brown hair. “I’m feeling pretty good. I think I'm going to wipe the floor with this rookie.”

Yoshiki Hashino, one of Imaoka Gym’s assistant trainers, handed Take a bottle of water. He frowned. “I don’t know, Take-kun. He’s the same one you read about in _Boxing Fan_. Promising outboxer out of Kamakura before his arrest… And then after his conviction was overturned, he developed into a boxer-puncher who went 17-0 in his senior year to capture the Inter-High, Fall Nationals, and Winter Cup.”

“Right. The ‘Triple Crown’ pretty boy who calls himself ‘Wildcard’ and is dating a model.” Take smiled grimly, clenching his fist. “Just summarizing it like that makes me want to feed him this right hand.”

“You should take him seriously. His fight against Hayato Miyazawa in the Winter Cup Finals is already being called a ‘classic’, even though it was high school level.” Hashino said. “Him and Miyazawa are considered the two most complete boxers to come out of the inter-high circuit in years.”

“Tch. It’s just high school boxing.” Take shrugged. “If I can catch him in an exchange, he’ll--”

“You won’t catch him.” A stern voice interrupted. Both Take and Hashino turned to look at the new arrival, a wiry older man dressed in an old-fashioned brown suit. The only hair on his head consisted of his iron-grey eyebrows and neatly trimmed beard.

Hashino straightened up, giving the newcomer a short bow. “Coach! Welcome back. We’re set for Korakuen Hall next week?”

“We are. We’ll be the undercard for the JBC Bantamweight Championship match.”

Take frowned. “Hold on, what do you mean, I won’t catch him?”

The head coach of Imaoka Gym smacked his cane on the apron of the ring. “You won’t be able to trap him into an exchange, you oaf! He’s too crafty and too fast for that! You keep talking about the strength of your right hand, but it’s going to end up like all your other losses. Only this time, your opponent might actually knock your ass out!”

“Please. He’s just some hatchling. Everyone else who’s tried to go toe-to-toe with me got knocked out, or otherwise gave up and danced around from a distance for some cheap decision win--”

“A win’s a win! You’re only 2-2-1! What’s worse, you’ve lost two in a row and it wasn’t even close! People have figured you out. You’re a one-armed, head-hunting simpleton of a boxer!” The coach shouted. “You talk about exchanging blows like it’s your God-given right. _No one has to give you anything_! I’ve told you for years, you need to hit without being hit!”

Take crossed his arms. “Tch You’re one to talk. When you were active, you--”

“If you can still talk back, then Hashino didn’t work you hard enough! Roadwork! Now!” The coach turned without another word, storming into his office. Hashino saw Take off at the door to the gym before following his boss into his office.

“C-Coach… Take-kun really is working hard, you know? Since his last loss, he’s redoubled his efforts in preparation for the fight next week.”

“I’m aware.” The older man grimaced as he sat down at his desk. Prior to becoming Imaoka’s head trainer, the coach had a long boxing career, and the wear and tear was self-evident.

Hashino sighed. “Then can’t you give him a little encouragement?”

The coach banged his fist against the table. “You want me to _encourage_ him?! He’s lost two in a row. That alone should be more than enough to light a fire under the idiot’s ass!”

Hashino held his ground. “I’m just saying, Coach Yoshio. You’re always hard on him.”

Coach Masao Yoshio glared harshly at his assistant trainer and friend for a long moment before sighing, rubbing his face with his wrinkled hands. “I have to be, Hashino… He’s my son. If I keep giving him more chances... The other boxers won’t say anything, but I can see it in their eyes. They’re wondering why we keep giving good fights to someone that’s becoming known as nothing more than a journeyman. This next fight… Take’s fighting Shinoda’s prodigy as the undercard before a title match. If he doesn’t have a good showing…”

Hashino’s eyes widened. “...Coach, you don’t mean…”

“We have to treat Take the same way we’d treat any other boxer in the gym, Hashino. Otherwise, no one will respect us as a serious gym… We could lose fighters. If he doesn’t do well against Amamiya, we’re dropping him. This gym can’t carry a tomato can. _Especially_ if it’s my son.”

The brief silence was interrupted by the soft squeak of a rubber soled trainer on the floor. Hashino blinked. That was odd; they were supposed to be alone. The assistant trainer stood up and opened the door to the office.

Take stood there, having returned to get his forgotten water bottle. His knuckles were white on the plastic.

“‘Tomato can’, huh…?” He said through clenched teeth. “I’ll show you who’s going to bleed, old man.”

He turned, stalking out of the gym.

“Take-kun, wait—“

“Let him go, Hashino.” Coach Yoshio said. “That’s the most fired up I’ve ever seen him. He wants to prove me wrong. ...I hope he does.”

>>>

April 28, 2018 (Saturday) 

Early Saturday morning, the Amamiya/Takamaki household was a flurry of activity. Ren was dressed and ready to go train at Shinoda’s, and Ann was prepared to make the long trip to Dublin, Ireland.

“Passport?” Ren handed Ann her carry-on bag.

Ann nodded, patting the pocket of her jacket. “Check.”

“Phone and charger?” Ren hefted his gym bag, slinging it over his shoulder before taking hold of Ann’s suitcase. He rolled it to the elevator.

Ann followed Ren into the elevator. “Check!”

“Kiss?” Ren flashed a crooked little smile at Ann.

“Hm...” Ann tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I don’t remember, Wildcard.” She grinned up at him. “Better give me another one to make sure?”

Ren pulled Ann into his arms, spinning them both halfway around. Her surprised gasp was cut off as Ren dipped her into the prototypical Hollywood kiss. Ann moaned softly into Ren’s mouth; she could still taste the coffee lingering on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. She clung to the fabric of his hoodie, vaguely aware that if he let go of her, she’d be on the floor - not that she was worried about it. 

“Mm…” Ann giggled as Ren stood her back up. She combed her fingers through his unruly hair, leaning against his chest. Ann sighed, nuzzling his collar. “Check on the kiss. But after one like that, I’m not sure I can just leave you like this.”

“I could stow away in your suitcase?” Ren chuckled.

Ann took a half-step back, running her hands over Ren’s shoulders. Shiho was right. Ren really was filling out his frame nicely. She shook her head, giving her fiancé careful consideration. “You might have pulled that off when we first met, Wildcard. Not now, though…”

The elevator came to a stop; the door opened. Ren sighed theatrically.

“Don’t go falling for any Irish boys, Songbird.”

Ann raised her eyebrow. She smirked. “Are you _really_ feeling insecure? Or are you hoping that if you sulk enough, I’ll do something to show you how much I’ll miss you?”

Ren shrugged, his dramatic pout vanishing like ether. He reached past Ann, hitting the button to close the elevator door, followed immediately by the emergency stop button that prevented it from going anywhere. He grinned rakishly. “You know me so well.”

Ann glanced at her phone. Plenty of time before her flight. Sort of. Not really. Not that it mattered. She smiled as Ren pinned her up against the elevator wall. She tilted her head, allowing her boxer space to work on the curve of her slender neck.

“Ah… Don’t leave any marks, Wildcard. The _local_ makeup artists are already annoyed with you, you know? What’s going to happen if I show up in Dublin with hickeys?” Ann murmured. Despite her words, the fingers of one hand gripped the nape of his neck, pulling him into herself. The other slid down to his ass, kneading and squeezing.

“Then that’ll mean I’ve made my _mark_ on global fashion…?” Ren growled. His teeth grazed her skin, just light enough to make Ann arch her back and shudder… Not enough to blemish her porcelain skin. She loved that about him. How he could be so careful--

She gasped as he slid a hand up her shirt, palming and groping her sensitive breast underneath her bra.

\--While being just rough enough to get her going. Her hands left his neck and ass, instead occupying themselves by trying to untie the drawstring of his track pants. Internally, she ran down the list of reasons why this was a bad idea. First of all, she could potentially miss her flight.

Ren cursed softly as she slipped a hand past her waistband, her fingers curling around him as she started to stroke and pull.

They were in an elevator. While the emergency stop was initiated, the door wouldn’t open from the outside. But someone could call a repairman.

Ann sucked on his tongue, whining softly at the back of her throat as Ren started feeling her up under her skirt, pulling at her damp panties.

And even if they got away with doing it in the elevator, she’d have to go all the way back upstairs to clean up… ...after all, he’d probably finish inside her, a rather appealing prospect that was rapidly drowning out all the reasons why this was supposedly a bad idea.

The poppy tune of _FLY two BLUE_ , Ann’s current ringtone, halted them both.

Ann smiled regretfully at Ren, extricating herself from him to answer. The caller ID told her that it was her agent, Tsuyoshi Matsuda.

“Matsuda-san?”

“Takamaki-san, good morning! Are you on the train yet?”

“No, not yet. Sorry, Matsuda-san. I’ll get moving--”

“Actually, it’s better that you’re not. There’s been a delay on the subway - I borrowed a car from the agency. I’m coming to pick you up. I’ll be there in ten minutes or so.”

“Oh! Alright, then. See you soon.” Ann hung up, looking at Ren. “Matsuda-san’s coming with a car. Turns out there’s a problem with the subway.”

“Oh.” Ren frowned thoughtfully. “Matsuda-san’s going with you?”

Ann blinked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have been concerned with the Irish boys.” Ren said, glancing away.

Ann rolled her eyes, not fooled for one second. “You know, pretending to be jealous works a lot better when your eyes don’t _sparkle_ like that, Wildcard.”

Ren grinned. “Did it work?”

Ann kissed him. She set the timer on her phone for ten minutes before sliding down to her knees in front of him, tugging at the waistband of his pants. After getting them down, she _kissed_ him, smirking at the groan she elicited.

“What do _you_ think?”

>>>

“Come on, Shujin! Move your asses! One more round!” Kaname yelled, smacking her shinai against an unoccupied heavy bag for emphasis.

Shujin Boxing was spending Saturday morning training at Shinoda’s. Each member of the team was working hard, either shadow boxing, doing drills, or hitting a heavy bag. It had become routine for the high school boxing club to practice at Tetsuya Shinoda’s gym on weekends. While Shujin’s remodeled multipurpose room was now quite well-equipped, the benefit of practicing in a professional boxing gym was undeniable. The trainers and boxers were more than happy to offer pointers to the high school students. Not only was it a break from routine for them, but it also gave them a chance to scout prospective new blood - which certainly explained the crowd around a certain second-year featherweight.

Kaname smirked slightly as one of Shinoda’s newer assistant trainers held Kaoru’s heavy bag. The man’s grimace reflected both surprise and strain as the force of the small fighter’s blows still found its way into his body despite the weight of the punching bag. Kaoru paused in middle range, lowering his hips. Kaname glanced at the trainer’s feet.

_‘Hm. He should really widen his stance and brace a little more.’_

“Here it comes!”

“Hammer it home, kid!”

The boxers watching yelled in anticipation; they had seen this before.

Kaoru exploded forward in the leaping three-quarter hook that had become his trademark. Patterson’s - rather, _Kaoru’s_ \- Gazelle Punch slammed into the bag, sending the heavy leather bag swinging wildly into the air, followed by the thud of the newbie trainer’s butt hitting the floor.

“Ah! Ando-san! Ando-san, I’m sorry!” Kaoru ran forward to the aid of the trainer, tripping over his own feet in his haste. He ended up on the floor beside the trainer; the laughing boxers and trainers helped them both up.

Kaname smiled as she looked on. Even though it was already seven months after they started officially dating, her boyfriend’s transformation still surprised her. When he was boxing, his focus and physicality were incredible. Just like Kaname and Shinji Takeda, Kaoru had tuned his infighting, swarming style into a weapon that was both precise and brutal. Even the Gazelle Punch had evolved. He no longer tried to mimic Floyd Patterson’s form, instead adapting the punch to his shorter stature and reach. It had a shorter range, but was now more compact, more sudden - more powerful.

But the transformation from mild-mannered gamer to dedicated boxer wasn’t what captivated Kaname.

She stifled an uncharacteristic giggle as Kaoru continued to bow and apologize to the trainer, who had gone from looking embarrassed to bemused by the young man’s earnest behavior.

Rather, it was the change she saw every time he stepped _out_ of the ring. No matter how hard his punches were, no matter how strong of a boxer he became, he never changed. Kaoru - _her_ Kaoru - had a perfectly gentle heart. Sometimes a little _too_ gentle, though, she wasn’t quite sure how they’d ever broach _that_ subject--

“Coach?”

Kaname turned, snapped out of her reverie. She quickly reset the stern glare that she had inherited from her father. Yuka Sakaki and Mayumi Tanizawa, her fellow club managers, looked at Kaname curiously. The violet-haired spitfire coughed to hide her blush.

“It’s been three minutes.” Mayumi said, helpfully.

“That’s the round! Cool down, Shujin!” Kaname turned to Yuka and Mayumi. “Mayu-chan, can you update the training logs? And Yu-chan, can you make sure they get their updated routines for the week? Especially the Idiot Twins. In fact, use a permanent marker and write ‘roadwork’ on their foreheads. Backwards, so they’ll see it in the damn mirror.”

Yuka nodded. By now, she knew that Kaname wasn’t kidding. “No problem, Coach.” The former bully paused, smirking faintly as she eyed Kaname. “...Iwai-kun looked pretty good today, didn’t he?”

Jealousy, irritation, and affection flashed across Kaname’s face all at once. No amount of coughing would hide it now. “He looks hot-- I mean, good! And hot. Because he’s dehydrated.”

Yuka grinned, whispering conspiratorially. “You know, it used to annoy me, how cute you can get. Now I just think it’s hilarious.”

Kaname glared at Yuka. “Don’t push me, Sakaki. Just because we’re _sort of_ friends now, doesn’t mean you can--”

“He’s coming this way~” Yuka chimed, turning away to carry out her club duties.

Kaname spun, fumbling her shinai. She snatched it out of the air just as Kaoru came to a halt in front of her. He smiled at her, still panting slightly from his workout.

“How’d I look, Coach?”

“Good, Iwai.” Kaname nodded. “Don’t tighten up your Gazelle Punch any more. It works better for you as a compact blow, but the whole point of it was to give you a medium-range option.”

“Right.” He nodded. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, frowning.

“Something wrong?”

Kaoru nodded. “It’s Saturday, so Amamiya-senpai’s roadwork is supposed to be over by now. In fact, he usually walks in the door during my last Gazelle Punch, about half a second before my fist hits the bag. And then he usually smiles at me and says ‘good work’ or something like that!”

Kaname was pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation. “You’ve memorized his routine _that_ well. Of course you have.” She continued, muttering under her breath. “I don’t know whether to be happy that you’ll never cheat on me with another _girl_ , or terrified that Renpai’s going to take you away…”

“Kana-chan?” Kaoru tilted his head curiously.

Kaname rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. Anyway, it’s probably because his fight’s in a week. Coach Shinoda’s likely made some changes to help dial Renpai in.”

The door to the gym slammed open.

Ren walked in, followed closely by Shinoda. The walrus-like man tossed the helmet for the gym’s moped aside, exchanging it for hitting mitts. The veteran trainer practically vaulted into the ring, slapping his palms together. He held them up, ready to receive punches.

“Come on, kid! Let’s go!”

Ren nodded breathlessly, red-faced and panting. It looked like Shinoda had nearly run him into the ground during his roadwork. He tossed his hoodie aside, quickly pulling on his gloves and climbing into the ring after Shinoda. Punches smacked sharply against the mitts; Shinoda struck out with his palms, tapping Ren’s chin, jaw, forehead, or body every time fatigue made his guard even the slightest bit sloppy.

“Wake up, kid! Is that all you got?!” Shinoda yelled. “Keep your damn hands up!”

Kaoru stared blankly at the usually soft-spoken, kindly Coach Shinoda. This wasn’t his usual style at all. If anything, he resembled Shinji Takeda - only, even more touchy and irritable.

The buzzer sounded to end the round. Ren pulled his gloves off, leaning forwards with his hands on his knees. He coughed and retched.

Shinoda tossed a skipping rope on the canvas in front of Ren. “Throw up on your own time, kid. Let’s go!”

Kaoru turned back to Kaname as Ren started skipping. “Isn’t this too much, Kana-chan?! Senpai looks like he’s about to fall over!”

Kaname frowned, watching carefully. The girl had lived at the Shinoda household since she arrived in Tokyo last year. When Tetsuya Shinoda was truly angry or frustrated, he wasn’t prone to outbursts. In fact, he was the opposite - he tended to internalize, much to the annoyance of his wife. This was different.

“...Heh. So, this is what Tou-san meant.”

“Your dad…?” Kaoru watched as Ren dropped the rope, heading immediately to the heavy bag. 

“Mm. Something he said to me before I left for Tokyo. Coach Shinoda’s fundamentals are sound and he’s a good tactician. But his main strength is in how he adapts to his boxers… How he identifies a deficiency, and then changes his training style to best correct it.” Kaname smiled. “Tou-san called it ‘clever, but unnecessarily complicated’. He _grudgingly_ said I should study how Coach Shinoda does things.”

“Heh. I can see that.” Kaoru said, chuckling. “When any of us have a problem in our boxing, you and your dad just point it out and hammer us in your usual style. It’s the total opposite… Kinda simple, actually--urk!”

Kaname smiled sweetly up at Kaoru, the tip of her shinai digging into the soft spot just behind the point of his chin. “Who’s simple?”

“N… No one.”

“Thought so.” Kaname chuckled, removing the shinai. She sighed, watching as Ren took a well-earned break. Even during this rest, though, Shinoda adjusted Ren’s posture, making sure the boxer didn’t slouch on the bench. Ann-nee’s going to worry if I tell her he’s working this hard.”

“Do you have to tell her?” Kaoru asked.

“She’d worry even more if I didn’t.”

>>>

May 2, 2018 (Wednesday) 

“So he’s still working out like that, Kana-chan? After you told me what his first session was like, I didn’t think it would last more than a day or two.” Ann bit her lip in consternation as she walked down through the Temple Bar district in Dublin on Wednesday night, her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder. Her hands were full with shopping bags. The fashion show wrapped up on Tuesday; she had spent the day doing some sightseeing and souvenir shopping for everyone at home.

“He is, Ann-nee. But don’t worry too much. Coach Shinoda’s got a handle on Renpai. I think there’s a method to the madness... The workouts are high intensity, but no more than an hour long per day, roadwork and gym included. Shiho and I have been making sure that he’s ea...ing an… ...eeping enough, too.”

Ann frowned and shifted her bags to a single hand so she could look at her phone. One bar only; reception was spotty amongst the narrow streets. She took a turn down an alley, watching the bars go up on her phone.

“--Ann-nee? You there?”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry, reception’s kinda weird. Anyway, thanks for looking after Wildcard, Kana-chan. I hope it isn’t cutting into your time with Kaoru-kun. Is there anything specific I can get you from Dublin? It’s the least I can do.”

There was a long pause on the phone. Ann assumed it was the signal again and moved further down the alley.

“Kana-chan? Are you there?”

“Ah… Yeah. I am. Uhm… Anything’s fine, but…”

Ann blinked. Kaname, normally so confident, sounded oddly apprehensive. Eventually, the demon trainer managed to get her words out.

“...Maybe when you get back, can I ask your advice about something? ...Er. Actually, about some _one_.”

“... _Oh._ ” Ann grinned. “I’d be happy to, Kana-chan.”

“It… It’s nothing important! It’s not what you’re thinking of!”

Ann suppressed her laugh. In her mind’s eye, she could see Kaname stamping her foot down, her fists clenched at her hips. Her face bright red. Ann couldn’t resist needling her former rival, just a little.

“What _was_ I thinking of, then?”

“Oh, shut it. Have a safe trip home, Ann-nee. Renpai misses you. It’s getting kinda pathetic. Hurry home so he has some semblance of fighting spirit for Sunday, okay?”

“Right!” Ann chuckled, hanging up. She looked up, frowning at the completely unfamiliar alleyway. She turned around - also unfamiliar. In her quest to find decent reception, she had gotten completely lost in the winding lanes and narrow streets. She turned again as someone stepped into the alleyway out of the back door of a bar, speaking in accented English.

 **“Excuse me, miss. Are you lost?”** The man looked like a local college student; dressed casually, with red hair, stubbled chin, and friendly smile.

Ann sighed in relief. **“Ah, yes. Can you point me in the direction of the Merrion Hotel? I think I’ve gotten turned around…”**

**“Oh. American? I coulda sworn I heard you speaking Japanese a moment ago.”**

**“I was. I’m from Tokyo, actually.”** Ann said. She turned, pointing. **“I think the hotel was that way…?”**

 **“Ah, yep. That’s it. I can do a little better than pointing you in that direction though. Why don’t you let me walk you there? I can help you with your things, maybe show you the sights?”** He stepped closer to Ann; he reached for her bags.

Ann didn’t spend months being terrorized by Kamoshida to become someone who trusted strange men easily. She stepped back, bowing politely. **“Sorry. I have a flight early tomorrow morning, and my agent’s expecting me to call soon. I should go. Thanks, though.”**

She turned away, walking briskly down the alley. She came to a halt as she felt a hard tug on one of her bags. She turned back; the man’s smile wasn’t so friendly anymore. The accent she found so charming earlier now seemed ominous.

 **“Funny how you weren’t so savvy a moment ago, miss. If you were, you would have known better than to wander down an alleyway in a strange city all on your own. Especially looking the way you do.”** He leered at her, undressing her with his eyes. **“I think you and I should have some** **_fun_ ** **together before you leave the country. At least, it’ll be fun if you behave yourself--”**

Before Ann could drop her bags and show this cretin what a year of being one of Ren’s regular training partners had taught her about self-defense, there was a loud thud. His eyes rolled; he fell bonelessly to the ground. Behind him stood a pretty Irish girl with a long brown braid and bright green eyes behind large spectacles. She wielded a heavy textbook. To Ann’s surprise, the girl spoke fluent Japanese.

“We need to run! He’s got friends inside the bar!”

>>>

May 5, 2018 (Saturday) 

“...so then she knocked him clean out with one of her engineering textbooks!” Ann said, walking arm-in-arm with Ren. “After that, we took off running down the alleyway, and she walked me back to my hotel. I took her out for dinner after. Really cute girl, really smart.”

Ren shook his head, sighing. Ann returned home late last night, and promptly fell asleep after her twenty hour flight. The walk to the weigh-in for his fight tomorrow was the first chance he had to ask her about the trip, and she had just regaled him with the story of her encounter in the Temple Bar district.

“Songbird… You’re going to give me a heart attack. That was a close call. Did you get… Sorry, what was her name again?”

“Fiona. Fiona O’Sullivan.”

“...O’Sullivan-san’s contact info? I feel like I want to say thank you for her part in making sure you got home safely.”

“Mmhm. Fi-chan and I have been texting.” Ann said. “Ah, here.”

She paused, taking a selfie of the two of them just outside of Korakuen Hall in Bunkyo, Tokyo. She sent it to Fiona, along with Ren’s gratitude. Ann eagerly read the response. She grinned at Ren.

“She says you’re welcome. Oh. And ‘to make sure you keep your guard up tomorrow, or Ann-chan will be upset that your pretty face is bruised’.”

“I’ll try my best.” Ren said, laughing. “Anyway, this shouldn’t take long. Weigh-ins for the undercard fights aren’t that big of a deal. The press conference and pre-fight commentary stuff is reserved for champions and contenders. After we’re done here, we can get something to eat, and you can tell me more about your trip.”

“Right. You must be hungry, Wildcard.” Ann frowned. “You haven’t had to watch your diet so closely before…”

“It’s not that bad.” Ren shrugged. “I’m naturally on the upper limit of welter, so my weight management isn’t as tricky as other fighters. It’s just harder than it was in high school last year, when I was more in the middle of the division.”

“Well, I’m still going to feed you.” Ann beamed at him, hugging his arm. “I _am_ your loving bride-to-be, after all. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed all of this. Training for the fight seemed to take up all your time, but you’re still doing well in school, _and_ you look as fit as ever.”

“Maybe. But more importantly, what are you going to feed me? Because I’m _really_ hungry.” Ren said.

Ann nodded, checking her phone. “Well, there’s always Jonathan’s. But if you want something new--”

Ren took Ann’s phone from her, slipping it back into the pocket of her jacket. He stepped close to her, smirking as he whispered in her ear. “No, Songbird. I mean… I’m _hungry_ .” Ann had been too tired last night for him to settle _that_ particular craving.

Ann blushed; she smacked Ren’s chest lightly with her palm, though she did smile at him. “Behave. ...At least, until after the fight.”

The pair met Shinoda in the depths of the storied arena, just outside one of the locker rooms. Ren quickly got changed into a pair of shorts and walked into the room set aside for weigh-ins. There were two other undercard fights aside from the bantamweight title match; Ren was the fifth fighter in the room. Ren smiled slightly. Aside from a few curious glances, no one paid him any attention. Transitioning into the professional world really was like a blank slate - none of the veteran boxers or reporters approached him, Triple Crown winner or not.

In fact, if it weren’t for Ann, Ren might have slipped in and out of the room without being identified.

“Who’s that… Isn’t that Ann Takamaki, the model? Oh! And that means that must be her boyfriend, Ren Amamiya! Takamaki-san, what do you think your boyfriend’s chances are--...Is that a ring on your finger?!”

Obviously, none of the reporters working on the boxing beat crowded around Ann. But the remainder of the media certainly did, pestering the bemused blonde model with questions about their engagement.

“Heh. She draws a crowd no matter where she goes these days, doesn’t she?”

Ren chuckled, looking over at the familiar face from _Boxing Fan_. “She really does, Minoru-san. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. Any butterflies for your first professional fight, Amamiya?” Mari smiled. She held up her phone to record Ren’s answer.

“None more than usual.” Ren said, shaking his head. He stepped onto the scale. “I’ve been training hard for the past several months, even if I didn’t know who my opponent was going to be until last week.”

The official standing beside the scale nodded, noting Ren’s weight. “66.5 kilograms. Amamiya-senshuu passes!”

“Ah. Speaking of your opponent…” Mari nodded at the door to the room. Take Yoshio walked into the room accompanied by two men. The young man was roughly Ren’s height, but somewhat stockier. His spiky brown hair was slicked back, accentuating his widow’s peak hairline and dark eyes. He brushed by Ren on the way to the scale, not bothering to acknowledge his kouhai. Ren wasn’t offended - as Shinji Takeda liked to say, boxing matches really started the moment you laid eyes on your opponent during the weigh-in. Yoshio was probably already dialed in.

“Yoshio-senshuu, 66.6 kilograms. Pass!”

Masao Yoshio and Coach Shinoda shook hands, exchanging pleasantries.

“Kid. Come here and greet your opponent.” Shinoda said, waving Ren over.

“Hurry and get dressed, Take.” Masao nodded sharply at his son.

Ren met Take’s stare confidently, offering a polite smile and outstretched hand. While Ren certainly wasn’t above using a mocking grin and flashy tactics to get under an opponent’s skin during a match, it wasn’t his style to start during the weigh-in.

“Good luck tomorrow, Yoshio-san.”

Take glanced down at Ren’s hand, and then over his shoulder at Ann. “Tch…”

Ren arched an eyebrow. “Do you have something to say?”

“Not really. Just thinking you must be carefree, to take your woman around with you everywhere. I’ll pass on the handshake, pretty boy.” Take turned his back disdainfully, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stalked away. “Pretty for now, anyway. We’ll see how you look after I feed you my fist.”

“Hey! Take!” Masao snapped. “Get your ass back here!-- Ah, impertinent little shit. Coach Shinoda, Amamiya-kun. Good luck tomorrow. Unless I kick the crap out of my son before then.”

Masao went after Take, gesturing sharply and barking admonishments at him. The two men quickly engaged in a shouting match as they rounded the corner. Take’s other trainer, Hashino, sighed.

“Sorry, Amamiya-kun, Coach Shinoda.”

“It’s fine.” Ren said. “Hashino-san, right? I’m used to people trying to get under my skin at the weigh-in.”

“If it were just that, it wouldn’t be so problematic…” Hashino sighed.

Ann nodded thoughtfully. “Ren’s not the one he has a problem with, is he? He was glaring at Coach Yoshio half the time he was in here.”

“Perceptive.” Hashino shook his head. “They’ve been at each other’s throats for the last week. Coach Yoshio’s going to drop Take-kun from the gym’s pro stable if he doesn’t make a good showing in the fight. Take-kun knows this, but he isn’t willing to make all the adjustments that Coach Yoshio wants him to…”

Hashino blinked. He frantically waved his hands. “Ah! Don’t let any of that influence you, Amamiya-kun! Sorry to air our dirty laundry like that. Let’s have a good fight, okay?”

“Right.” Ren smiled. “See you all tomorrow.”

Ann and Ren said their goodbyes to Coach Shinoda. They left Korakuen Hall, holding hands as they headed for a nearby restaurant.

“Isn’t it strange that Yoshio-san wouldn’t listen to his head trainer?” Ann asked. “Especially if he’s also his father?”

Ren rubbed his chin. “Hm. In most cases, you’d be right, Songbird.”

“What’s unusual about this one?”

“I didn’t put it together until I saw Coach Yoshio in person.” Ren said. “Like most trainers, Masao Yoshio was a boxer. No one of note, though. He was the definition of a journeyman… He bounced from gym to gym, trainer to trainer.” He took out his phone, looking him up. “30-24-6 when he retired. He had a winning record, but most of his wins came against novices or other journeyman boxers. He never won any titles. Just like his son, though, he was known for having a deadly right cross… It’s probably killing him to see that his son’s going down the same path.”

“Is it hard to be a journeyman boxer?”

Ren nodded. “Incredibly so. It’s hard to break free from the label once it’s been applied. Trainers and promoters aren’t likely to give you good fights, and if they do, it’s usually with very little notice and for very little money. Anything to get by, to keep the dream alive a little longer. Some people outright say that the sole purpose of a journeyman boxer is to ‘provide a body for better men to beat on’.”

“That’s awful…” Ann murmured, squeezing Ren’s hand. It was clear that she was worried about this possible future for Ren.

“It’s a risk of pro boxing.” Ren said. “I could show you any number of promising amateur boxers who ended up amounting to nothing in the pro world. Even other Triple Crown winners. Sometimes, it’s even worse if people keep telling you that you have potential. It makes you try for longer than you should… That’s probably why Coach Yoshio and Take are at odds. Coach Yoshio wants his son to have a better life than he did. And as for Take refusing to listen to his father…”

Ren sighed, thinking of his own father and their many scraps and brawls.

“...I think this argument might come from a place of love.”

>>>

Late that night, Take Yoshio stood alone in his studio apartment in front of his television. An ancient-looking VCR was hooked up to the modern flat screen, forming an odd juxtaposition that matched the contrast between Take and the image on the screen. Take shadow boxed, matching the movements of one of the fighters. The announcer’s voice came through on the screen, cracked and rickety from degradation of the old VHS tape.

“And Yoshio takes another blow from Yoshimoto! And another! And another! The charismatic young prospect from Osaka, referred to some as the next ‘Fighting Harada’, is using Yoshio as a sandbag! The referee’s moving in to end this slaughter-- Oh my _God_ ! Yoshimoto’s down! He’s down! The referee’s crossing his arms! This match is _over_!”

Take slipped to the right, simultaneously launching his seiken-like right straight. At the start of the punch, his palm faced the ceiling; at the end, it faced the wall, his thumb pointed almost at the ground. The corkscrew motion was a natural byproduct of the kinetic chain linking the floor to his fist - from his foot, to his waist, to his back, to his shoulders, every muscle fiber in his body was tuned to deliver destructive force at the end of his knuckles.

But it wasn’t quite right. It was lacking something.

Take rewound the tape, watching again.

“...This match is _over_! With this sudden turnaround KO, Masao Yoshio is now the fourth-ranked contender for the JBC Lightweight title! Like a bolt of lightning from God himself, Yoshio strikes down the contender who was supposed to be one of Japanese boxing’s ‘chosen ones’! Incredible!”

Take paused the video, just in time to catch the expression of joy on his father’s face as he leapt into the arms of his trainer, his right fist thrust into the air.

Take smiled. Barely visible in the background was a little boy, watching the match with pure adulation on his face. Take didn’t really have to watch the tape. Even though he was only six years old at the time of the fight, he still remembered it vividly; the turnaround knockout punch hadn’t been a surprise to him at all. With all the hours he spent watching his hero - his father - train, he had known what to look for. The spacing of his feet. The set of his shoulders. The perfect opportunity.

The hyperbolic ringside announcer aside, in Take’s memories, his father’s punch really did seem to smite his opponent like a divine bolt.

That was what made the following months even more bitter. His father never again reached those heights. The words ‘lucky punch’, ‘tomato can’ and ‘one-hit wonder’ were thrown around often enough that even as a boy, he quickly learned what they meant. He was the only one who truly believed in his father… Even when Masao Yoshio didn’t believe in himself.

It was to the point where Masao strongly discouraged his son from getting into professional boxing. And now, even after Take had rededicated himself to his training, his father didn’t seem to have much faith in Take’s - and by extension, his own - fighting style.

_‘You’ve finally been working hard, Take. I’ll give you that. But you need to get your head out of your ass. You’ll never amount to anything more than a journeyman, a plug! You need to get it through your thick skull that it takes more than a solid chin and strong right to get any further than I did.’_

The truth was, Take didn’t care about championships or glory. All he wanted was to recreate the punch that captivated him as a boy. It was the reason why he cross-trained in karate; the reason why he ignored his father’s advice to change his style to match the modern age of boxing that was so dependent on rhythm, hand-speed, and defense.

All Take Yoshio wanted to do was prove to the world - and his father - that there was no such thing as a lucky punch in boxing.

>>>

May 6, 2018 (Sunday) 

In each of the dressing rooms of Korakuen Hall, there was always one wall that was shabbier than the rest. One concrete wall that might have been painted in the distant past, but somehow forgotten in all the renovation and modernization of the storied arena. While this seemed to fly in the face of the ideals of Japanese cleanliness and precise upkeep, it was intentional, and left for a very important reason: tradition.

Marks on the wall, roughly shoulder height, decorated the beaten up surface. Marks left by generations of nervous boxers, from journeymen to champions, from graceful outboxers to sluggers. Normally, Ren would be fawning over the marks, imagining the fists that had touched the wall.

Today, he was too busy adding marks of his own.

The dull thudding of his gloved fists against the wall weren’t enough to distract him from the hammering of his heart against his chest. It was absurd, of course. He had boxed before. In fact, the crowd at the Winter Cup Finals was bigger than even the maximum capacity of Korakuen Hall, which held only four thousand people.

But this was his first professional fight. Within minutes, he’d be stepping into the same ring - the same world - as Hiroyuki Shirai, Manny Pacquiao, Floyd Mayweather…

...And Mamoru Yamanaka.

So Ren punched away, mindful not to hit the concrete too hard. Just basic combinations; one-twos, sways and headslips, the same ones that Coach Shinoda made him do over and over again despite the fact that he was dead tired from roadwork, drills, or whatever else the older man threw at him in the week’s lead-up to the fight.

“Kid.”

Ren stopped. He nodded, heading to the door before the veteran trainer could even say ‘it’s time’. He was halted by Shinoda’s outstretched hand on his shoulder.

“Kid… You alright?”

Ren nodded, giving his head trainer a confident grin. “Hell yeah. It’s showtime, Coach. Let’s do this.”

Shinoda nodded, leading the way down the hall. Ren was glad that Ann wasn’t waiting with him in the bowels of the arena..

She’d know he was lying.

>>>

“You aren’t waiting down there with him, Blondie?” Shiho looked surprised to see Ann as she found her seat in the stands, accompanied by Ryoichi Kurosawa.

“Hey, Shiho, Kurosawa-kun.” She bit her lip, frowning slightly. “I asked, but Ren made up some excuse about how he’d feel better knowing I got safely to my seat before it got too crowded in here…”

Ann looked around - the excuse had been a bit thin, but not without merit. The arena was filling up nicely, but this wasn’t an international championship match. Several of the fans were a bit rough around the edges, and some members of the largely male audience were clearly checking Ann out. The addition of Shiho was like adding more chum to the water, and while Ryoichi was tall, he wasn’t much of a deterrent with his movie star looks and slender figure. Thankfully, they were joined by someone whose presence was more than enough of a shield for the group.

“Hey, guys! What’s bonkin’?” Ryuji grinned, sitting down at Ann’s other side. While the bleach blonde track star of Sophia University wasn’t small or weak-looking by any means, he wasn’t the shield with his mile-wide grin and casual manner. Instead, it was the young woman he arrived with - second year law student, accomplished martial artist, and his girlfriend, Makoto Niijima.

Makoto took a seat beside Ryuji. Her brown hair had grown out since high school, now a little past her shoulders, and she carried herself with the same no nonsense air exuded by her elder sister. She didn’t bother to _glare_ at the men who were eyeing Ann and Shiho. Instead, she gave them a look that told them that they weren’t even worth the effort of narrowing her eyes. The chill was palpable and the resemblance to Sae quite remarkable.

Up until Ryuji put his arm around her shoulders, of course. She blushed faintly, but happily leaned into him. She smiled at Ann, Shiho, and Ryoichi.

“Hey, everyone. How was your trip, Ann?”

“Great, Makoto! I’ve got souvenirs for everyone.” Ann managed a brief smile before turning back to the ring with trepidation. The crowd noise increased as Ren made his way to the ring, accompanied by Shinoda, Kaname, who was stepping into her previous role as Ren’s cutman, and one of the other assistant trainers.

“What? Where’s the flashy light show and entrance music?” Ryuji asked.

“That’s reserved for bigger fights.” Makoto replied. She leaned forward, watching with interest as Ren doffed his sleeveless ‘Shinoda Boxing’ hoody in the corner, bouncing on his toes and running through combinations. “For Ren and his opponent, it would be like putting on airs.”

Yoshio made his way to the ring shortly after. Unlike Ren, his natural weight was somewhat above welterweight; in the day since the weigh-in, he had rehydrated and fueled up. To Ann’s eyes, he actually seemed bigger now than he did during the weigh-in.

The ring announcer took the stage to scattered, mildly enthusiastic applause.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! The first match of the evening is in the JBC welterweight division, scheduled for four rounds.” He gestured to Ren’s corner. “In the black and red trunks, hailing from Kamakura, Japan, and making his professional debut… Ren ‘Wildcard’ Amamiya!”

Ann frowned. Again, just scattered applause. Apparently people weren’t that enthused about the undercard fight—

“AMAMIYA-SENPAIIIIIII! FIGHT…!”

“OH!”

Ann looked up. Kaoru was on the other side of the arena, flanked by several other Shujin students. Mostly members of the boxing team, but also more than a few admirers from his high school boxing days, judging by the squealing and shrill cheers.

“Oh my. My son’s as popular as ever, I see?”

Ann turned to see Inoue Amamiya, who took the seat behind Ann. Rather than her husband, she was accompanied by Kentaro Yamada and a few other people from the inn. Ren’s mother gave Ann her characteristic dazzling smile as she leaned forward, giving her future daughter-in-law a hug over her seat.

“It’s so good to see you, Ann-chan!”

“You too, Kaa-chan. Tou-san didn’t come with you?”

“Aniki’s dad volunteered to stay behind and take on some extra duties to make sure the rest of us could come. Pretty cool of him.” Yamada grinned. The former delinquent clenched a fist. “He’s definitely going to be watching from home, though. He managed to find some sketchy free stream of the fight. The website looked Russian?”

Ann snickered.

The announcer continued once the crowd noise died down a little.

“And in the blue and white trunks, from Fuchū, Japan, with a professional record of 2-2-1, Take Yoshio!”

Ann jumped in her seat slightly - the cheer from the ‘regular’ boxing fans was unexpectedly loud. Though from the content of the shouts, she shouldn’t have been surprised.

“KNOCK HIM THE HELL OUT, YOSHIO!”

“Break his pretty face! Who the hell does that rookie think he is, bringing high school girls and a model to cheer for him!?”

“Wildcard? Who the fuck has a ring name for their pro debut?!”

Ann tuned them out, instead watching as Ren and Take approached the center of the ring; the announcer held the microphone towards the referee’s mouth as he checked their gloves.

“Four rounds, boxers. Keep it clean. Touch gloves!”

Take stared Ren down, the hostility clear in his dark-eyed gaze. For Ren’s part, he returned the stare evenly, touching gloves with Take before turning back to his corner.

“Aniki’s looking pretty good, huh?” Yamada said, with a low whistle. “He didn’t have that much muscle on him before.”

“Yeah. This should be all Ren, all the way!” Ryuji crowed.

Ann bit her lip. She looked at the set of Ren’s shoulders; the way he held onto the ropes in his corner and stretched. She glanced over her shoulder as Inoue leaned forward, touching her arm.

“Ne… Ann-chan. You see it too, don’t you…?”

Ann nodded tightly. “...Yeah. I do.”

Ren was terrified.

>>>

The ‘flow state’, or ‘being in the zone’, is the mental state in which a person performing an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus. In sports, this state has been attributed to some athletes delivering a magnum opus, performing far beyond their expected limits. In martial arts specifically, this state of mind has been described as _mushin_ , or ‘no mind’: a state in which a combatant isn’t fixed on any single thought or emotion, allowing the person to act and react without hesitation. They move not on what they think should happen next, but on what they _feel_ should happen.

In his young life, Ren was fortunate. He had experienced this state in the fight against Madarame, when he first discovered the Black Wing. Once again when he learned to tap the power of Satanael. And once more in the final round against Hayato Miyazawa, when his mind emptied of everything except for the opponent in front of him, when the state of effortless hyperfocus showed him the way to victory against his old friend.

Indeed, the psychologist who was famous for coining the term ‘flow state’ would have marked these instances as examples. The scientist’s name, who was…

 _‘Mihály Csíkszentmihályi.’_ Ren’s brain added, quite unnecessarily. He was _not_ in a flow state. Instead, his mind raced back and forth like a gerbil with attention deficit disorder, completely eschewing the exercise wheel in favor of flailing about uselessly. _‘And Jeanne Nakamura was involved, too. But no one remembers Nakamura. Except for me, right now. For some reason. Why am I thinking about this--’_

“Kid!”

“Renpai!”

Ren looked up from his stretch.

“Mouthguard!” Kaname snapped, holding up the translucent red thermopolymer.

Ren nodded; he opened his mouth to accept the mouthguard. Shinoda took hold of Ren’s shoulders, giving him a light shake.

“Kid. Did you listen to a damn word I said?”

He hadn’t. But he could guess.

“Keep my distance, look out for his right.” Ren said. “Figure out timing this round, take it to him in the next.”

“...Right.” Shinoda said, looking somewhat surprised.

“Seconds out!” The referee yelled. Kaname and Shinoda stepped out of the ring. Ren stared across the ring, but it felt like his opponent was kilometers away. This was the same ring where Mamoru Yamanaka made his debut; the same ring where countless other champions were crowned.

The lights shining down on the ring were bright, almost painfully so. It had the effect of wiping out the crowd around the ring, reducing them to white noise and darkened silhouettes. For a chilling moment, it felt like he was back in the boxing arena created by the false Igor, a veneer meant to chip away at Ren’s resolve and sanity.

That concern was quickly overridden as Take Yoshio barreled down on him.

_‘Shit! The bell! That was the bell!’_

Ren narrowly slipped a jab. His eyes widened. Not just a jab.

_‘One-two! His right! His seiken right!’_

Ren tilted his head and bobbed; the punch shot past him, close enough to graze the hairs of his eyebrow.

_‘Holy--’_

Ren broke into a cold sweat at the strength and sharpness of the punch. It would have been enough to knock him into next week. And Take wasn’t done.

The more experienced boxer chased Ren down, not giving him even a second to think. Punch after punch shot in at Ren’s face, forcing him to bob, slip, and weave constantly. The boxer known as Wildcard was completely under siege; he couldn’t even _think_ to take the initiative.

There was a brief break in the rhythm.

_‘It’s coming!’_

Ren’s balance was wrong for another dodge; trying to avoid Take’s powerful right straight would throw him off-balance, leaving him wide open for another vicious blow. Instead, Ren struck out with a jab - not his flicker, not any other variant. Instead, just the basic jab that he had drilled countless times with Shinji and Kaname Takeda, as well as Tetsuya Shinoda. A jab he could throw in his sleep.

Take’s head was thrown back with a loud snap of synthetic leather against skin. Sweat flew. Yoshio’s punch was stopped completely, but it didn’t stop the boxer. Yoshio growled, gritting his teeth. He stepped in roughly, pushing his shoulder against Ren’s chest.

Ren tightened his guard, anticipating a hard body blow.

The bell rang.

With a disgusted scoff, Take straightened up, heading back to his corner.

Ren stared for a moment before moving back to his own. That didn’t feel like three minutes. Paradoxically, it felt both longer and shorter than that. His concept of time and distance was completely off. Take no longer felt like he was kilometres away - instead, it felt like Ren was sitting exactly opposite to him. He could barely breathe due to the proximity. Ren sat down on the stool that had been placed in his corner, looking across at his opponent. There was something odd about Take’s expression--

“Kid! Hey!”

Ren’s focus turned to Shinoda for a moment. He then tried to look around his coach at his opponent. “He’s not just a headhunter with his right, Coach. His combinations are crisp; he’s trying to set it up properly. And I didn’t think he was that fast. I could barely--”

“Kid…” Shinoda said, quietly. He put a hand on Ren’s shoulder as he took a knee in front of his boxer. “Look at me. Did he hit you cleanly? Or at all?”

Ren blinked. He replayed the round in his mind, finally starting to silence the gibbering mess. He opened and closed his mouth, starting to say something before just shaking his head.

Shinoda looked at Ren calmly. “You were completely terrified, weren’t you? You were completely out of your mind. But even if you didn’t remember, your body did. And it remembered _perfectly_. Kana-chan?”

Kaname just nodded, wiping at the sweat on Ren’s brow. “That… that was a textbook defense and jab, Renpai. I’ve never seen you sway and dodge like that. Otou-san would be proud.”

“That’s right.” Shinoda shook Ren’s shoulder lightly. “You’ve had your round to adjust and look at the world you’ve stepped into. I know what you’re thinking, kid. It’s the same world as Robinson and Ali… As Mayweather and Yamanaka. You’re right. But it’s _your_ world, now. It’s _your_ ring. Go and take it!”

Ren shook his head quickly, as if clearing the last of the haze from his vision. He let out a long breath. The crowd faded from his mind; the glare of the lights settled enough for him to see. It was the same six by six metre ring he had trained in for years. He looked across the ring at Take; the man sipped water out of the bottle offered to him, keeping his eyes locked onto Ren.

In that moment, Ren saw everything - everything that had occurred in the first round, everything that was happening in this very moment. He recognized the expression on Take’s face.

Shinoda smiled. “You see it now, don’t you? He’s frustrated. You took his best rush head-on, and he couldn’t scratch you.”

The bell rang.

“Seconds out!”

Shinoda and Kaname climbed out of the ring. Kaname looked sidelong at Shinoda.

“So that’s what all that training was for?” Kaname asked. “You wanted him to drill when he was at his most tired and worn out so that he’d be able to pull all that off without thinking?”

“Compared to Iwai-kun or Hiro, Ren’s a complicated fighter, Kana-chan.” Shinoda said. “It’s difficult to pare down what the ‘essence’ of his fighting is due to how many different looks he can give you. But if I had to pick something, I’d say his best asset is his ‘boxing sense’. His ability to see without seeing, to act without hesitation on any of the thousands of inputs he gets from his opponent. I watched the video of his fight against Miyazawa extensively. In particular, the final sequence. In my estimation, Ren was going to lose that fight.”

The referee sent each fighter to a neutral corner as a technical difficulty with the camera feed was addressed. Ren gripped the ropes with his gloved hands, closing his eyes as he focused.

“But in the critical moment, after he got up from Miyazawa’s counter and he was taking a beating over his guard, something happened. If I had to hazard a guess, his conscious mind finally emptied. He acted purely on instinct. Do you remember?” Shinoda asked.

Kaname nodded. “Of course. Renpai did an infighter’s dash, like Iwai. And then he pushed Miyazawa back, feinted right, but his left--”

“Why did Miyazawa bite on the feint?” Shinoda asked, suddenly. “Did _you_ know it was a feint, or are you speaking in hindsight?”

Kaname hesitated, speaking slowly. “I… thought he threw that right. I was surprised that the left came out instead.”

“And then Miyazawa bit on _another_ feint after that.” Shinoda said. “It left him wide open for the left smash. You’re not alone, Kana-chan. You, me, Miyazawa, _everyone in the arena_ thought that Ren threw two rights. It was a perfect feint, one thrown with complete _sakki_ and _mushin_ . His boxing sense and unthinking body were good enough to trigger the instincts of another _very_ good boxer into registering an incoming punch.”

“Unthinking body…” Kaname mused. She thought of how Shinoda had been holding the mitts, the way he had made Ren bob and weave when he was dead tired.

“I was trying to show Ren’s subconscious ‘boxing sense’ what Take Yoshio’s punches would look like.” Shinoda said. “The problem with Ren is that sometimes, he thinks too damn much and tries to do too much. He dithered on whether or not to go pro; he hesitated on whether or not he should give up being an assistant coach to focus on his own career. I _knew_ the moment he stepped into the pro ring, his mind would be a mess. So I tried to drill the movements past his conscious mind. I needed to buy his brain time to catch up.”

Kaname watched as the bell rang, and Ren approached the center. “...Looks like he’s caught up.”

Shinoda nodded confidently. “He has. This is over in the next minute.”

>>>

Take sipped from the water bottle that was offered, glaring across the ring at his opponent. “God damnit…” He muttered. “I couldn’t even touch him.”

Masao kept his own expression under control. This was usually the point where his son would complain about the other fighter running away from him, avoiding exchanges. “He’s been trained well on your tendencies, Take. But he isn’t running. You managed to catch him in that last sequence, before he hit you with that jab. You need to keep after him, and--”

“I know.” Take said, quietly. “That’s not why I’m frustrated, Tou-san. I can see he isn’t running. He cleanly slipped and dodged all my punches. He stayed in reach the entire time, but I couldn’t touch him. This… this is why you tried to stop me from boxing, isn’t it?”

Masao nearly dropped the water bottle. This was hardly the time - after all, his job as Take’s second was to support and believe in him. But this was his son. He owed him the truth, especially now that he could see it.

“...You’re too much like me, Take. Strong right, good chin. Both enough to get us to the pro level. But I was missing something. I eventually ran into fighters where no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I trained, I had no hope of surpassing.” Masao said. “That knockout I had against Yoshimoto was both the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. I won where I wasn’t supposed to. I was instantly someone to look out for, even a contender for a few months.”

His eyes flitted down to his bad leg and gnarled hands.

“But it was false hope that kept me boxing for longer than it was safe. I can’t say if you’re going to end up the same way… But I don’t want to watch my own son doing the same thing, toiling endlessly and putting his body on the line as a journeyman boxer because of a lucky punch.”

Take looked sharply at his father.

“Seconds out!” The referee called.

Take stood up. He caught Masao’s arm as he started to exit the ring. “There’s no such thing as a lucky punch in boxing, Tou-san. I’m going to show you now, no matter what happens.”

>>>

Take raised his hands into his orthodox stance. His plans to rush at Ren again were forestalled instantly by the altered atmosphere in the ring. Before, his younger opponent seemed overwhelmed. It was something that Take understood well - after all, he himself had only made his own professional debut a short time ago. But now, it seemed like the fighter from Kamakura had found his center.

Ren stood opposite Take in his trademark hitman stance, his left hand low, his shoulders jogging slightly. Grey eyes, no longer wide with awe, studied him coldly.

 _‘...Hard to believe this is the same guy.’_ Take thought. _‘I need to take the initiative, try to put him back on the defensiv--’_

His head snapped back as a flicker jab caught him. Instinctively Take raised his guard to take the chopping right he had trained to expect. Take was instead rewarded for his careful study of Ren’s habits by a 1-6 jab to right uppercut combination that nearly took his head off, coming up between his guard. Take stumbled back into the ropes - somehow, he had been backed up into them.

Ren was all over him, demonstrating the medium to long range swarming and suppressing style he had employed at times against Miyazawa. Any attempt to get off the ropes was halted with a hard shot to the body. Ren continued to pummel Take over his guard, focusing on right overhands and straights, along with left body blows.

It was painfully obvious what Ren was doing. He was leaving a lane open for Yoshio’s right straight. He was _daring_ him to launch his _seiken_ like Sunday punch.

In a way, it was liberating. Finally, Take was up against a boxer who wanted to take on his best punch, head-on.

But the recollection of his father’s fight filled his fighting spirit; his memory and instinct guided his fists. The punch wasn’t lucky. Nor was it simply strong. It was the near-perfect combination of strength and timing; a punch that came out of nowhere to take Yoshimoto at the most vulnerable position. To elicit this, his father had slipped to the outside, using his right as a devastating counter to a jab. In Take’s memory, it was a divine bolt; a blazing shot that struck down his opponent in an instant.

Take’s current opponent was too fast for that. Take had to create a different opportunity.

So, he slipped left and pivoted, throwing a check hook that he _knew_ would fail.

The punishing chopping right made his ears ring. He stumbled backwards, leaning into the ropes. It was a sharp, vicious blow, one that shook Take to the core. But he knew it was coming; he had clenched his jaw, tightened his neck and braced, done everything to stay conscious. And so as he _appeared_ to crumple, he tucked his right fist at his waist, palm up. He turned his body to the right in the appearance of a stumble, in reality loading up like a spring-loaded spinning top.

His eyes, still alive, locked onto Ren’s jaw, exposed by the follow-through of his overhand right.

Take had paid for the opportunity in pain.

With a kiai more suited for karate than boxing, Take launched his _seiken_.

It was perfect. The timing, the strength, the sharpness. It finally felt right. It felt _complete_.

This was no lucky punch.

Fist struck jaw; knees struck canvas, followed shortly by the unconscious body of a boxer, like a puppet with its strings cut. The referee turned to the standing fighter, pointing to the other side of the ring.

“Neutral corner!” He yelled.

Ren Amamiya nodded. He turned away from his fallen opponent; he looked over at his corner, his smile widened into a grin as there was no count - instead, just the ringing of the bell signalling the first professional win and TKO for the boxer known as Wildcard.

>>>

A short time later, Take Yoshio laid on a bed in the infirmary of Korakuen Hall, simply resting. The ringside doctor had already examined him, but told him and his father that the two of them could take as long as they needed. Take wasn’t sure what happened. He remembered taking the chopping right in order to create an opening for his own counter-attack, but nothing else. He could feel his father’s presence in the room. It was unusual for the two of them to be silent for this long - usually they’d start training, or arguing, or _something_.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Take sighed, taking the towel off his eyes. He decided to start with the obvious question.

“Tou-san… What happened? How did I lose?”

“You took a chopping right, and then threw your own _seiken_ out.” Masao sighed. “...That Amamiya… He turned his overhand right follow-through into a slip to his left, bobbed under your punch, and then used the blind angle created by the follow-through of your arm to hide a left smash that caught you right in your jaw.”

“...Damn.” Take murmured. “...That’s it, then. I really thought I had him. I… Damn.”

“...It was perfect.” Masao said, after a long moment.

Take blinked. He turned his head to look at his father. The man, normally so irritable, normally so taciturn, wiped at his eyes.

“It was perfect.” Masao continued. “The opportunity you created. The timing. The placement and power. If you had hit him, it wouldn’t have been a lucky punch. It was a punch that showed everyone all the hard work you’ve put in; it was a punch that you put your own body on the line to land. You just ran into an opponent who was able to deliver an _absurd_ counter to it. It shows how much he studied you, Take. He respected you and your right.”

Take shook his head slowly, laughing bitterly. “And I can’t even remember it. That’s just perfect…”

“Take.”

Take quieted as his father walked over, offering his hand. He accepted it; the older man helped him sit up.

“I can’t tell you if it’s false hope, Take. I don’t know if you’ll get further than I did. But if you’re willing to risk it… then you can continue on at the gym.” Masao said. “After seeing that fight, the other boxers will welcome you. And even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t care.”

He smiled, taking hold of his son’s shoulders.

“I want to see that punch again, Take. And I want you to remember it next time.”

>>>

Late in the evening, Ren carefully sat up in the bed he shared with Ann. Or at least, he tried to. Ann murmured softly in her sleep, clinging to him in protest. Ren smiled helplessly. He leaned in, kissing his slumbering fiancée on her soft lips. That earned him a quiet little mewl and a nuzzle from the blonde. She let go, allowing the boxer to slip out of bed. Ren pulled on a pair of sweatpants, pausing at the door to the bedroom. A slash of moonlight highlighted her perfectly. The sheets barely covered her naked form; creamy skin and soft curves beckoned him, tempted him to crawl back into bed and wake her up for another ‘victory celebration’ - the likes of which had put her into this satisfied slumber to begin with.

But it was a deep sleep he needed her to be in.

Ren turned away, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way over to the kitchen counter, taking a seat on the bar stool in front of his laptop. After he logged in, he grimaced at the email that was still sitting prominently on the screen.

_‘Amamiya-san,_

_I’m sorry, but I can’t give you another extension on your paper. Even if you were a member of a varsity team, it would be challenging. But in fairness to the other students, I can’t make an exception for you and your training as a professional boxer. I’m afraid the deadline is still the first Monday back after Golden Week - any later, and I’ll have to consider this assignment a fail._

_Ken Suzuki, PhD_  
 _Faculty of Letters, Arts, and Sciences_ _  
Waseda University’_

Ren rubbed his face with both hands. He took a long, slow breath.

_‘I am your loving bride-to-be, after all. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed all of this. Training for the fight seemed to take up all your time, but you’re still doing well in school, and you look as fit as ever.’_

Ren lowered his hands to the keyboard, opening up a word document. It was supposed to be a seven page paper exploring the role and responsibility of a journalist in politics - whether it was the journalist’s job simply to seek out and present the truth, or to go a step beyond and actually advocate for change and justice. A topic near and dear to Ren’s heart, something he had at least researched and formulated an argument for.

It would have been nice if he had already written it, too. He glanced at the clock. 22:00. He had ten hours until the deadline at 08:00 tomorrow.

Ren shook his head, his voice a soft murmur as he started on page one, line one.

“How have I managed it, Songbird…? I’m not sure either..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious, some things have happened between the end of GtD: XR to GtD: HH. Ren and the gang are fully into their academic years; Ren and Ann are enjoying their love nest. I thought about getting into the start of the year and introducing Ren's college friends (members of Waseda's boxing team) but it felt a bit forced/excessively expositional. They'll come into play if and when it feels relevant to me.
> 
> Suffice to say, Ren in true Ren fashion has already tried to do too much. He tried to go back and help Shujin Boxing train its newbies; he also went and helped coach Waseda's boxing team for a bit until Ann stopped him.
> 
> For those wondering, most collegiate leagues don't allow you to compete if you're pro - this is the case in the world of GtD. Once Ren got his license and committed to a pro fight, his collegiate boxing career was over. He doesn't get the benefits of being a varsity athlete (more forgiving deadlines/excused absences, etc).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. 1.9 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In elite-level sport, nearly every aspect of an athlete’s life is closely managed in order to maximize performance. Training is regimented and planned; nutrition is finely tuned. Even sleep is accounted for. Dr. Cheri Mah, a consultant for several professional sports leagues, demonstrated in her research that extending sleep from 6.6 hours to 8.5 hours nightly produced significant performance gains in a multitude of sports. A mere 1.9 hours led to improved accuracy, speed, and power._
> 
> _The reverse is also true. One of Dr. Mah’s contemporaries, Dr. Charles Cziesler, likened asking athletes to perform without sufficient sleep was like asking them to “play with one hand tied behind their back. It’s making them do something we know degrades their reaction time, their ability to take in training, to get the most benefit out of it.”_
> 
> _“It just doesn’t make sense to make an elite athlete do something so inefficient and frankly, detrimental to their health.”_  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminders/Terms
> 
> Boxing numbering system: 1 = jab 2 = straight 3 = left hook 4 = right hook 5 = left upper 6 = right upper. Adding 'B' turns each number into a body shot. 1B = jab to body

June 30, 2018 (Saturday) 

It was a balmy day in Tokyo; in one quiet Setagaya neighborhood, cicadas were already chirping and declaring the onset of the summer. The Shujin student walking down the street hardly noticed, though. His shorter height and kind, bespectacled face suggested he might have been the bookish sort - if it weren’t for his broad shoulders, thick forearms, and the way that he shadowboxed as he waited for the light to turn at the crosswalk. An elderly couple smiled in amusement at the teenager as they passed by. The boxer didn’t notice.

Kaoru Iwai muttered to himself, his school bag swinging from his shoulder as he punched the air. He frowned and stopped short as he visualized an arrow-like left counterpunch punishing him for his right straight. His imagined opponent was quite challenging. He crossed the street, stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he continued to think about the hypothetical fight. He was so engrossed that he blew right by his destination.

Or at least he would have, if it weren’t for the shinai that was suddenly thrust in front of his path.

“Iwai! Where do you think you’re going?”

Kaoru startled. He turned, smiling sheepishly as he looked through the gate of the Shinoda household. Just inside stood Kaname Takeda, the pint-sized team manager and de facto coach of Shujin Boxing - and, to Kaoru’s happiness and surprise, his girlfriend.

“Aheh. Sorry, Kana-chan. I was just thinking about the Inter-High again. About the guy I almost fought instead of Kobayashi...”

Kaname rolled her eyes. “Are you still depressed over the fact that he retired from amateur boxing to go pro already? I told you, you’ll find another rival soon enough if you keep up with your training. Or if you’re so depressed, just go and turn pro yourself. High school students can do it as long as you’re over sixteen years old and have your parents’ permission.”

Kaoru shook his head. “Ah, no. It’s not that. I mean, it’s tempting, but I promised my dad I’d go to college.” And also, while Kobayashi moving on to pro boxing did disappoint the young featherweight, he had a feeling that their separation wasn’t going to be forever.

_‘Hey, Iwai. You heard? Then this will be a quick phone call. You’d better get your ass to pro eventually. I’ll be waiting to beat you down.’_

“Then what is it?” Kaname asked, her shinai on her shoulder. Her other hand was on her hip; her shoulders were squared, her back straight. Kaoru noticed that she was still in her school uniform. Odd for her - usually Kaname couldn’t wait to throw on jeans and a hoody when she got home. Not that he minded; he thought Kaname always looked good in her uniform.

Apparently she noticed Kaoru staring. The grip on her shinai tightened fractionally; her lips pursed slightly.

Kaoru spoke quickly. “I was just thinking about how everyone at the Inter-High had me so well-scouted. Every fight was really tough.”

Kaname nodded, smiling proudly. “That’s to be expected. You took the Winter Cup and Fall Nationals last year, remember? And Kobayashi went pro. That means you’re the one to beat in featherweight.”

The boxer shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I still feel like the challenger, Kana-chan. I don’t know what I would have done if that boxer from Usuda hadn’t been forced to withdraw before our match.”

Kaname shrugged. “You would have been fine. Anyway, come on. We’re supposed to study, aren’t we?”

Kaoru followed Kaname inside. He looked towards the kitchen automatically, where Sawako, Coach Shinoda’s wife, usually was at this time in the afternoon.

“Good afternoon, Sawako-san—“

“—she isn’t here.” Kaname said. “She went out shopping along with Coach Shinoda. They aren’t going to be back for… for a few hours.”

“Oh, really?” Kaoru took his shoes off. “Do you know where she went? I mean, we should probably help carry stuff back.”

Kaname shrugged. “No idea. Besides. S...studying, right?”

Kaoru glanced down at his shoes. He frowned, lining them up more carefully against the wall. He was comfortable being there without either of Kaname’s guardians in Tokyo home, but wanted to make sure that when they got home they’d see his shoes and jacket arranged properly.

By the time he looked up, Kaname was already halfway up the stairs. He hurried after her, walking into her room. He started fishing around his bag for his notebook. “So, what should we start… with… whoa.”

Kaname Takeda was by no means a slob. But she was an outstanding team manager and coach - usually it meant that she was always working on _something_ for the club, whether it was patching up a heavy bag, or rolling up freshly laundered hand wraps, or studying statistics from each of the fighters’ training regimens. So while her room was never really messy, there was always some variety of boxing related clutter either occupying her table or her bed.

Today, the only thing on the small Japanese style table beside the immaculately made bed was a tray with freshly brewed tea and carefully arranged snacks. It was like a stereotypical ‘home study date’ out of one of Ren’s manga. Kaoru looked curiously at Kaname. She was looking back at him. At first, somewhat expectantly.

Then, as he ran through the mental checklist of things he might be forgetting (anniversaries, birthdays, etc) and came up empty, he watched ‘expectantly’ slowly shift to ‘irritated’.

“Well?! Aren’t you going to sit down?!” Kaname huffed.

“Y-Yes!” Kaoru said, quickly sitting down. He took out his books as Kaname poured tea for the two of them, taking a seat kitty-corner to him.

The study session went quickly. Kaoru was focused, and Kaname seemed to make sure neither of them ever saw the bottom of their tea cups. She was unusually quiet, though - even during their breaks, she didn’t seem to say much. It got to the point where Kaoru took to spending his breaks doodling in his notebook rather than trying to speak to Kaname. Which was why, after a couple hours of studying, she surprised him during one of their breaks by asking him a question.

“K...Kaoru?”

Kaoru blinked. He looked up at her. Her eyes were downcast; she fidgeted with her mechanical pencil in a _very_ un-Kaname like way.

“Kana-chan?” He smiled at her.

“W...what are you thinking about?”

Caught off-guard by the odd question and distracted by the pretty blush on the violet-haired spitfire’s cheeks, he answered honestly as he tried to figure out why the normally direct Kaname Takeda would ask something so vague.

“Boxing.”

“...What?” Kaname blinked, looking at Kaoru in surprise.

“Y-yeah!” Kaoru continued. “I mean, that guy from Usuda’s a southpaw, right? So that means we’d be fighting for foot position the entire time. And on top of that, he has longer reach.”

He started to ramble as Kaname’s jaw tightened. He was missing something, obviously. He couldn’t think of what it could possibly be. His mental block certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that she was _distractingly_ pretty somehow. She was always beautiful in his eyes, but today it was like she was actually wearing makeup or something. But Kaname and makeup? That was crazy. Trying to buy time, he kept talking.

“Er… And, that would make my usual dash more difficult, right? If I had to account for foot position.”

Did she always _smell_ so nice, too?

He stood up, starting to slowly shadowbox. “So I thought maybe if I stepped in like this? Look, I was even drawing diagrams--”

“You should get changed.” Kaname said, suddenly smiling pleasantly. _Too_ pleasantly.

“Er… what?” Kaoru felt a chill down his spine.

Kaname reached into one of the club’s gym bags, pulling out a spare pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She flung both at him, her smile vanishing.

“Get changed. Since you love _boxing_ so much, we should go _train_.”

>>>

July 8, 2018 (Sunday) 

“...And then after that, she tied three tires to my waist and made me run for ten kilometres.” Kaoru sighed.

“Dude.” Ryuji shook his head.

“Heh. Sounds like her.” Ren said, smiling sympathetically as the three boys jogged alongside the Tama River Trail in Tokyo. “Are you two getting along now, though?”

“Pretty much back to normal.” Kaoru frowned. “I still can’t figure out what set her off, though. And whenever I try to bring it up, she makes me run more. At least this time, she settled for me running with you guys instead of dragging tires.”

“Heh. Was wonderin’ why you asked to join us all of a sudden, Kaoru.” Ryuji grinned. “Guess we don’t push you as hard as her, huh?”

Ren looked thoughtful. “Hm. So, Kana-chan invited you into her room to study.”

“That’s right, senpai.” Kaoru nodded.

“And you said her room was unusually clean, her bed was made, and she kept pouring you fresh tea?” Ren glanced at Ryuji, who was mid-sip from his water bottle.

Ryuji blinked. He nearly choked as he caught on. Ryuji started to smile; his grin was Cheshire-like. “And you guys were _alone_ in the house, for like, _hours_?”

“Yeah! And she stayed in her uniform from school instead of changing into her usual jeans and hoodie. And for some reason, she even _smelled_ really nice. I mean, not that she doesn’t usually, but I guess I just noticed it more? ...Why are you guys smiling like that? Do you know why she was so mad?”

“Poor Coach.” Ryuji said, shaking his head. “It’s kinda funny how she isn’t more up front about it, isn’t it? It’s like she’s a dog chasin’ a car. Now that she has one, she doesn’t know what to do with it…”

“Mm. Yeah. Though, I have to say I’m not displeased by the fact that my ‘little sister’ has such an upstanding, pure-hearted guy as her boyfriend.” Ren said, with a solemn nod.

“Thanks… but what do you mean by that, Amamiya-senpai?” Kaoru asked.

Ren shook his head. “Oh, no. No way. If it’s what I think it is, she’d _kill_ me if I said anything. And then resurrect me so she could kill me again.”

Kaoru turned to Ryuji, hoping the track star would be more forthcoming. “Sakamoto-senpai…?”

“There’s a reason I still call her ‘Coach’, bro. You’ll… uh, you’ll figure it out.” Ryuji said. “Anyway, did you ever figure out that southpaw thing?”

Kaoru sighed. “It’s like asking about the study session. When I ask Kana-chan, she just makes me run again. With tires.”

“Hm? That’s because that _is_ your solution, Kaoru.” Ren said. The three reached the end of their run and started stretching.

“What do you mean, senpai?” Kaoru asked.

Ren stood in front of Kaoru, taking a southpaw stance. “What’s the textbook response to this?”

Kaoru took an orthodox stance; he moved in, trying to take outside position with his leading foot, which would bring his right straight in line with Ren’s face while taking his own head out of the line of fire. He paused in the ideal position.

“Like this, right? Usually orthodox versus southpaw matches turn into a fight for positioning while the fighters try to nail each other with straights from their strong side, don’t they?”

“Right. That’s basically what it would boil down to if I was fighting a southpaw fighter. I’d take my distance, keep to the outside, and try to create an opportunity for a chopping right. With you… Well.” Ren started moving his leading foot, jockeying for outside position while slowly miming left straight punches at Kaoru. “Give me a few rights, like a mirror image to what I’m doing.”

Kaoru nodded; he started doing similarly slow right straights as he fought for the outside position.

Ren nodded. “Ryuji, you’re in the perfect spot. What do you see?”

Ryuji was down in a long runner’s stretch, positioned so that he could see the two boxers in profile. “Other than two boxing idiots makin’ people stare on a Sunday morning?” He grinned. “Well. Kaoru’s punches aren’t really _reaching_ you, RenRen.”

Ren reached out in a flash, taking hold of Kaoru’s fist. He positioned the Shujin fighter’s fist at its most extended position, and then extended his own fist. He was mere millimetres away from Kaoru’s face; Kaoru was a couple centimetres shy.

“My way wouldn’t work for you, Kaoru. In the kind of exchange we were doing, all things considered equal, I’d eventually start landing more punches. You’ve always had a bit of a reach disadvantage compared to most.” Ren said. He waved a hand as Kaoru started to frown. “Ah… But all things _aren’t_ equal, remember? The power and speed of your step-in drives people crazy. And on top of that, show me your usual stance when you get in close?”

Kaoru raised his fists into the nearly squared-off peek-a-boo type stance that was characteristic of Shinji and Kaname Takeda’s style.

“You’re not really in orthodox _or_ southpaw, aren’t you?” Ren said. “That alone throws off the usual advantages a southpaw fighter has. And Kana-chan probably has you running as much as she is so your step-in gets even more powerful, and so you’ll be able to do it repeatedly. Even though it _already_ gives people fits. My guess is that she’s probably doing things that force you to dodge left as well? That would be to train you to slip under a left straight and put you in position to hammer in a body shot.”

Kaoru smiled weakly. “Sometimes she throws things at me.”

“Ah, yeah. I remember that. The ‘if you can dodge this, you can dodge a punch’ philosophy-- Wait.” Ren looked at Kaoru, mildly alarmed. “What exactly is she throwing at you?”

“Just tennis balls. Why?” Kaoru asked.

Ren sighed in relief. He shivered. “Nevermind. In any case, it sounds like she’s already made adjustments to your training. An even more powerful step-in combined with a sharp, sudden slip to the left. Even if you don’t end up facing down a southpaw, you’ll still improve as a fighter overall.” He grinned. “Pretty nice. Your girlfriend slash trainer really looks after you, even if she's mad at you. For _whatever_ reason.”

Kaoru sighed at Ren’s little smirk. “Senpai… Will you _please_ just tell me--”

Ren blinked, glancing at his phone as the screen lit up with a text message. “Ah, crap. I gotta run. Haya-kun’s in town to train with me and the dumb bastard’s already lost. I’d better get him before he ends up in a brothel or something.”

Kaoru blinked. “You’re training more, Amamiya-senpai? We were just at the gym, and then did the entire trail…”

Ren flashed a winning smile. “The pro world’s a bit different, Kaoru. Just like you, I’m being scouted pretty heavily these days, so I need to keep fine-tuning things. Need to keep my opponents guessing.”

Kaoru nodded. Ren was now 3-0 in his pro career. After his fight against Take Yoshio, he had won his second pro fight in another knockout, and then his third in a convincing decision. “That last guy was tough. I can’t believe you didn’t knock him out…”

“It was my first fight of the Rookie King Tournament…” Ren shrugged. “It makes sense that guys will be ready and able to take more punishment. Even Mamoru Yamanaka doesn’t win every fight with a KO.”

“Your next fight’s in the middle of August, isn’t it?” Ryuji asked. “Sucks that I can’t make it, RenRen. I’ve got a training camp around that time.”

Kaoru perked up. “That’s right! Sophia University’s track team already has high hopes for you, don’t they Sakamoto-senpai?”

Ryuji grinned. “Yep! Can’t let anyone down.”

“Both of you are working so hard...” Kaoru sighed. “I guess that’s what I have to look forward to if I go on to collegiate boxing?”

“That’s right.” Ryuji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been tough, Kaoru, but with Makoto’s help I’m not even close to failing anything. If I can do it, so can you!”

Ren’s phone chimed again. Shujin’s former captain shook his head, muttering a curse. “Haya-kun’s already texting for help. Gotta go, guys.” 

Ryuji and Kaoru watched their friend jog away. Ryuji let out a low whistle as he glanced at his friend’s shoulders. “Man. Y’know, there was a time where he was lanky as fuck. Look at his back, now. He really looks like a pro.”

“It makes sense.” Kaoru said. “Having a strong back improves your punch recovery and stability… And when he was in high school, senpai was right in the middle of the welterweight class. It makes sense that he would have put on muscle. As a pro, it’s usually more advantageous to be at the top of your class.”

“Usually?” Ryuji asked.

“Ah, yeah. Sometimes fighters overdo it. Then you have to cut weight before weigh-in, but even that isn’t too big of a problem if you’re managed well. And senpai has Coach Shinoda and Kana-chan looking after him. Not to mention Takamaki-senpai!”

“Heh. True. Ann wouldn’t let him get away with overdoing it. When she’s in town, anyway…”

>>>

August 8, 2018 (Wednesday) 

Ann stepped into the blessedly cool refuge of her hotel in Manila, sighing in relief as she made a beeline for her room. She frowned, fishing around in her purse for her phone. She came to a dead stop as she realized it wasn’t on her.

 _‘Oh, crap… Did I leave it at the shoot?! That was an hour-long drive!’_ “Matsuda-san, do you know where I can get a new--oh.”

As Ann turned to look at her agent, she spotted her phone - held in his outstretched hand. The perpetually frazzled-looking talent agent smiled at his charge from behind his thick-framed glasses. “Right here, Takamaki-san.”

Ann smiled sheepishly. Not so much for forgetting that she handed her phone to Tsuyoshi Matsuda, her agent, but more for the fact that she gave him her phone because the photographer had threatened to throw it off a nearby cliff when she wouldn’t stop checking it.

“Aheh. Thanks, Matsuda-san. And sorry about earlier. Ren was supposed to call me today, but our schedules are hard to coordinate, and I keep worrying that he’s trying to get a hold of me…”

“Ah, about that…” Matsuda gestured at Ann’s phone. “It looks like Amamiya-kun did text you earlier…”

Ann blinked; she unlocked her phone to check.

**RA: Hey, Songbird. Sorry I keep missing you. Let’s try again tomorrow? I should probably get to sleep early tonight. Training starts early in the morning.**

Ann bit back a disappointed sigh. She had been away from Tokyo since Waseda University’s summer break started a week ago. The break was nearly a month long, and her talent agency wanted to take full advantage by booking Ann for as many shoots and fashion shows as possible. Although she was taking a modified curriculum to allow her to work during the academic year, it was still challenging to make progress in her modeling career while maintaining decent grades. It made the summer break critically important.

But that meant every moment she could get with her fiancé was precious. Even before the summer started, it felt like they barely saw each other even though they lived together. She really missed talking to him… seeing him… doing _other_ things with him.

Still, though. She didn’t want to worry him by sounding too lonely.

**AT: No problem, Wildcard! Sounds like we’re both doing our best! Let’s talk tomorrow for sure <3**

Ann looked back at her agent. “Do we have anything else today, Matsuda-san?”

Matsuda took a long sip of his coffee, stifling a yawn. “Hm? Ah, no. We’re done for the day, Takamaki-san.”

Ann bit her lip. “...Sorry you had to come, Matsuda-san. Most talent agents don’t travel with their models, do they?”

Matsuda blinked. He smiled, waving his hand. “If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else, Takamaki-san. Agency policy for gigs outside of Japan, remember?”

That had been the case for the Pulse Model Agency since Ann’s close call in Dublin. Elias Takamaki had _not_ been happy when he found out, and had made a number of phone calls to Pulse.

“That’s my fault too, though…” Ann sighed.

Matsuda waved a hand and shook his head.

“Hardly. Honestly, it’s been a long time coming. All the top agencies make sure their talent is escorted, and this just means Pulse finally has the resources to do just that.” Matsuda said. “Besides, it’s my chance to see the world! Anyway, if Amamiya-kun won’t be calling, then let me find a place for us to get dinner--”

Ann’s phone rang. For a moment, the blonde hoped she’d see Ren’s name and profile picture flash across the screen. Ann blinked. It wasn’t Ren, but she was hardly disappointed. She smiled happily.

“Oh! It’s Shiho. Sorry, Matsuda-san. I should take this.”

“No problem, Takamaki-san. I’ll have room service bring something up to you.”

Ann nodded gratefully, heading to her hotel room as she accepted the video call. 

“Hey, Shiho!”

“Hey, Blondie!” The face of Ann’s bestie appeared on her phone. Shiho was at home, sitting in the living room of her parents’ place in Akasaka. “How’s things in the Philippines?”

“Warm. Humid.” Ann sighed. “The shoot took forever because they kept having to touch up the makeup and hair for all of the models. It’s a bit annoying. It’s not like this is an amateur gig or something, but I think they could have picked better products for a humid environment. I don’t know if they’re trying to save money, or if it’s a new artist, but… Why are you smiling?”

Shiho shook her head. “I’m smiling _proudly_ , Ann. Look at you. I remember when this used to just be a part time job for you. Now there you are in another country, a professional model.”

“Aw. Thanks, Shiho--”

“You’re even _whining_ like a professional.” Shiho’s smile reverted back to her usual Puck-ish grin. “What else did they screw up? Tap water only? Did you storm into the canteen, demanding sparkling mineral water? _Don’t they know who you are_?!”

“Ha ha.” Ann rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “You’ll always be there to stop me from becoming like that.”

“You are having fun, though?”

Ann sighed. “...More or less.”

“Miss the Champ, eh?” Shiho asked. “He’s actually the one who asked me to call you in his place. The guy’s working really hard, but he’s always thinking of you.”

“He’s not working _too_ hard, I hope?” Ann frowned.

Shiho shook her head. “He’s in great shape. Here, have a look at this!” Shiho’s image was replaced by a video, though the former volleyball captain’s voice was still audible. “It’s raw footage that Yukkun took for Coach Shinoda’s gym. Apparently now that the Champ’s gone pro, he’s getting a hype video. Once the editing and soundtrack are done, it’ll be posted online.”

Ann smiled, watching the video. It was of Ren, training for his upcoming fight.

“Doesn’t he look good?” Shiho asked.

Ann eyed Ren’s abdomen, then shoulders and back as the camera focused on the fighter hammering a truck tire with a sledgehammer. “Mmmmhm.”

“...You know I can see you drooling, right? Your camera’s still on.”

Ann startled. “Am not!”

“You were literally licking your lips.”

“Oh, shut it.” Ann rolled her eyes as Shiho’s face reappeared on screen. “So how’s everyone else?”

“Great! We all miss you, though. Oh. And get this.” Shiho’s eyes lit up. “I _finally_ got the whole story out of Kana-chan. About what happened when she invited Minimiya over.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. It went like this…”

>>>

June 30, 2018 (Saturday) 

“Ah, no It’s not that. I mean, it’s tempting, but I promised my dad I’d go to college.”

“Then what is it?” Kaname asked, her shinai on her shoulder. Her other hand was on her hip, her fingers tense so that Kaoru wouldn’t see them shaking. She kept her shoulders squared, her back straight. It was hard for her at the best of times to relax in the uniform. She generally felt it was stiff and stuffy, which was why she usually changed the moment she got home… But it was one of the nicer outfits she had. Other than the stuff she wore for their actual ‘going out’ dates. And that would be _way_ too suspicious. She frowned slightly, her hand tensing on her shinai. Maybe the uniform was suspicious too, though--

“I was just thinking about how everyone at the Inter-High had me so well-scouted. Every fight was really tough.”

Kaname smiled proudly. Kaoru really was coming into his own as a boxer, but he was still so humble. It was one of the things about him that she loved--liked. “That’s to be expected. You took the Winter Cup and Fall Nationals last year, remember? And Kobayashi went pro. That means you’re the one to beat.”

“I still feel like the challenger, Kana-chan. I don’t know what I would have done if that southpaw boxer from Usuda wasn’t forced to withdraw before our match…”

Kaname shrugged. “You would have been fine. Anyway, come on. We’re supposed to study, aren’t we?”

Kaoru followed her inside, automatically calling a greeting out to one of Kaname’s guardians in the city. “Good afternoon, Sawako-san—“

“—she isn’t here.” Kaname said. “She went out shopping along with Coach Shinoda. They aren’t going to be back for… for a few hours.” Kaname had made sure of it. She had casually handed Sawako Shinoda two tickets to a matinee film for the actor that the Coach’s wife was fond of.

“Oh, really?” Kaoru took his shoes off. “Do you know where she went? I mean, we should probably help carry stuff back.”

Kaname shrugged. “No idea. Besides. S...studying, right?” She cursed herself for her stutter, and the way she fidgeted once she put her shinai down, pressing the pads of her index fingers together. Fortunately, Kaoru was looking down as he arranged his shoes. She whirled, practically running up the stairs.

Kaoru followed her up. “So, what should we start… with… whoa.”

Kaname bit her lip. This _was_ suspicious. Her room was way too tidy. Kaoru would definitely notice something was up. Not that she _really_ minded. After all, wasn’t that why she invited him over?-- No, not _necessarily_ . Just that if _that_ happened, then at least her room would be clean and welcoming and-- Why would that even matter? And why would what she was wearing matter? Well, _some_ of what she was wearing would matter. Like the colour of--

Kaname’s eyes flitted over to the immaculately made bed. It seemed to be something out of one of Ren’s manga, particularly that steamy one with the basketball player and team manager, practically screaming ‘just push me down here’.

“Well?! Aren’t you going to sit down?!” Kaname snapped, not wanting to get lost down _that_ particular train of thought.

“Y-Yes!”

The study session went by quickly. Kaname edged closer to Kaoru’s side of the table as the afternoon went on; her heart seemed to want to explode out of her chest every time he reached across the table. Surely he’d notice the perfume she was wearing. There were moments where she thought he was reaching for _her_ \- her hand, maybe. Or her cheek. Or--

She quickly grabbed the teapot each time, occupying herself by refilling the cups.

But nothing happened.

_‘I… I should just say something. I mean, it’s Kaoru. He’s not going to make fun of me. And for all I know, he’s nervous too…’_

“K...Kaoru?”

He blinked. He looked up at her from behind his glasses. Kaname met his eyes for a split second before looking back down at her pencil. She didn’t know how _he_ didn’t know how distractingly _cute_ he was to her.

“Kana-chan?”

That soft smile of his knocked the next words out of her head, replacing them instead with a fluttering, squeezing feeling in her chest. _‘...What was I going to say!? Just… say anything!’_

“W...what are you thinking about?” Kaname cursed internally. Stupid question.

“Boxing.”

“...What?” Kaname blinked. She barely listened as Kaoru rambled. This entire time, she thought that he’d notice something was up. That he’d notice everything she’d prepared and then take the initiative, or at least ask, or at least be as nervous as she was. This entire time, she was working herself up into a nervous wreck of _‘_ I hope he does something but I hope he doesn’t only I’d be crushed if he doesn’t but my heart might explode if he does and I’m going to _die_ if he reaches across the table one more time without even touching my hand’--

“So I thought maybe if I stepped in like this? Look, I was even drawing diagrams--”

Kaname looked at her boyfriend, shadowboxing slowly in her room. She then looked at his terrible diagrams of an orthodox versus southpaw boxing match. For all of her heart-pounding anxiety and fear of rejection, there he was. Smiling that stupidly innocent smile, boxing without a care in the world. And there she was, wearing makeup, dressed in her uniform, feeling like an idiot.

She lov-- _really_ _cared_ for Kaoru. But right now… 

She clenched her fists, wringing the fabric of her skirt. She smiled pleasantly at her boyfriend. _Too_ pleasantly.

“You should get changed.”

>>>

August 8, 2018 (Wednesday) 

Ann snorted. “I figured as much. Are they getting along now, though?”

“Pretty much back to normal. For now, anyway.” Shiho laughed. “At least until Kana-chan really decides she wants to take the next step with him. For someone so direct, blunt, and downright _scary_ in other parts of her life, she’s hilariously insecure when it comes to Minimiya. The guy’s clearly head over heels for her, and the same goes for her. I don’t think it’s so much about sex as it is her wanting to show him how much he means to her…”

“Well, she could just _tell_ him.”

The two young women looked at each other for a moment in a thoughtful pause. Simultaneously, both snorted and laughed.

“Can you imagine?” Ann snickered.

“Haha. She’d get the first couple words out, and then attack him with her shinai. Or make him run intervals. I think they’re the kind of couple where every emotional step forward has to be something out of a manga, like that time at Sports Day, or when the team gave her that jacket…”

Ann rolled her eyes. “Like _you’re_ one to talk. Christmas much?”

“H-hey! Things have been smooth sailing since then!” Shiho said, defensively.

Ann did her best impression of a sleazy-Shiho-grin. “Oh? How _smooth_?”

Shiho turned several shades of red before coughing, shaking her head. “Smooth _enough_.” The ravenette blinked as Ann’s phone chimed. “Hm? Am I keeping you from something, Blondie?”

Ann shook her head. “Not really. Just a reminder that I need to read a couple chapters from my econ textbook tonight. I’m not taking any summer classes, but if I’m going to keep my grades up in the fall, I need to start reading now.”

“Wow. You _have_ changed.” Shiho laughed.

Ann smiled. “I need to keep up with Wildcard, you know?”

Shiho nodded. “Yeah. He’s in the same boat as Makoto, isn’t he? The top students always get roped into summer research projects…”

“Mmhm! He’s spending all this extra time with Professor Suzuki.” Ann said. “It’s too bad. He wanted to help out with Shujin Boxing’s summer training camp, but even he could see that juggling that with an extra project and his own training would be too much.”

“That’s good. I remember when you used to have to sit on him to stop him from running himself into the ground. Now you can just sit on him for fun.”

“ _Bye_ , Shiho.”

“Haha. Later, Blondie. See you at the Champ’s fight!”

>>>

August 10, 2018 (Friday) 

“Where the hell _is_ that idiot…” Yukito Kubo, the elder brother of Yutaka Kubo, Arima High’s Boxing coach, glanced at his watch in irritation. He was standing outside his Kyoto-based boxing gym, Nishijin Boxing. He looked up as the source of his vexation rounded the corner.

Hayato Miyazawa waved at Yukito. “Hey, Coach--Ow!”

Hayato’s ever-present red bandana was a nice target for a knife hand chop to his forehead.

“Don’t ‘Hey, Coach’ me. You’re late.”

“H-hey! It’s not my fault this place is so hard to find. For a successful boxing gym, you’d think you could have gotten a better location.” Hayato gestured down the street at the various heritage buildings of Kyoto’s traditional weaving district.

“And you’d think that after training here since _February_ , you wouldn’t get lost on the way over here anymore, idiot. Honestly, when my brother warned me about your sense of direction, I thought he was kidding. You’re like a reverse-salmon or something.”

“Reverse-salmon? Heh. Sounds fishy.”

That earned Hayato another chop as the Coach led him inside. “Come on, Haya-kun. We’re about to start reviewing videos for people to look out for in welterweight. Including your old friend.”

The head coach and boxer joined the rest of the trainers and fighters of Nishijin, seated in a semicircle around a television set up in a corner of the boxing gym. The first fighter featured on the footage was in fact, Ren Amamiya, in his first professional fight. On the screen, Shujin’s former captain nailed Take Yoshio with his patented chopping right, seemingly staggering the fighter.

Hayato grinned, having seen this fight. “Wait for it…”

Take of course, only appeared to stumble - he launched a perfect _seiken_ style punch at the opening left by Ren’s follow-through, the right side of the rookie boxer’s jaw. It was a perfect counter with impeccable timing, an opportunity created with grit and toughness.

“Almost enough.” Hayato said, shaking his head sympathetically. Even during his first viewing of this footage a few months ago, he had known what was going to happen, and had seen the utter _lack_ of surprise in his old friend’s eyes.

Ren had created an intentional, millisecond pause in his follow through. As soon as Take committed to the _seiken_ , Ren continued his movement to his left, fearlessly slipping under the powerful counter and simultaneously slamming a left smash into the tip of Take’s chin.

One of the other boxers let out a low whistle as Take crumpled to the canvas, this time for real. “Some real monsters in welter, Haya-kun. You and Amamiya in the Rookie King Tournament alone, not to mention Ashiro defending the Japanese title…”

“And that was just Amamiya’s first match.” Yukito said. “He hits even harder, now. Ask Haya-kun. They sparred pretty recently in Tokyo.”

Hayato looked thoughtful as they watched Ren’s most recent fight - his decision victory in his first fight of the Rookie King Tournament.

“...Yeah. Definitely hits harder.” Hayato said.

Yukito raised an eyebrow, hearing the unspoken word. “...But?”

Hayato blinked. “...Ah, nothin’. Probably nothin’, Coach. Just lookin’ forward to seein’ how he’ll do on Sunday.”

>>>

August 11, 2018 (Saturday) 

It was late in the afternoon at the Tokyo Dome Fitness Club, a spa and gym located only a few minutes’ walk away from Korakuen Hall - the location of all the Rookie King Tournament’s eastern matchups. The club was largely empty - it was too late for the retirees, and too early for the students and salary men and women that formed the other part of the clientele. And it was certainly too early in the day for most people to be taking a _shvitz_ in the sauna.

A lone figure sat in the steam room, dressed inappropriately in multiple layers of sweatpants, sweaters, and jackets. The stopwatch sitting beside him chimed; he stood up in a flash, shadowboxing briskly despite the heat. Flicker jabs, chopping rights, and left smashes cut into the air, flicking sweat against the wall.

_‘Amamiya-senshu… ...67.8 kilograms. Amamiya-senshu is over by 1.2 kilograms. Amamiya-senshu, you have one hour to correct this, or you will forfeit the match.’_

_‘What?! Kid, how the hell are you over?!’_

_‘Renpai, didn’t you follow the diet?! How are you over?! I swear to God, I’m going to tie that alarm clock around your neck again--’_

_‘No time for that, Kana-chan. Come on, kid. We don’t have much time.’_

Ren exhaled sharply through pursed lips. Despite the sweltering heat in the sauna, despite the sweat that weighed down the layers of clothes and hampered his movement, his focus was honed to a razor’s edge. His anger at himself made for a formidable whetstone. He had no one to blame but himself for this. For everything. He had set ambitious goals at the start of the year. In hindsight, naively ambitious.

He was supposed to enter Waseda University and earn a degree at the prestigious university.

He was supposed to do this while being a professional boxer aiming at an eventual showdown with Mamoru Yamanaka, the invincible world champion.

And he was supposed to do this while being the same reliable Ren Amamiya that his friends and family had come to expect.

He wasn’t supposed to be on academic probation. Rather, he wasn’t supposed to be _lucky_ to be on academic probation. Only Professor Suzuki’s compassion and creation of extra credit assignments over the summer had saved him from outright expulsion.

He wasn’t supposed to be fucking up his weigh-ins. If only it was just the weigh-ins. His last fight should have been a knockout victory, but his punches lacked the same sharpness, the same stopping power. Between training and the extra assignments, something had to give. In Ren’s case, sleep was the sacrifice. He was exhausted, and no amount of nutrition or dedication to physical training could make up for his nights alone, typing away on his computer.

And even when he did finally return to bed, he wasn’t supposed to be lying awake at night, wondering when Ann would catch onto the lies. Thankfully, Ann was just as busy as he was, or he’d never have gotten it past the girl who could read him like a book. 

_‘What are you working on, Wildcard?’_

_‘Ah… Just something for Professor Suzuki.’_

_‘Really? Aren’t finals over? ...Oh! It’s like how Makoto’s always doing extra projects, right? Heh. seems like places like Waseda and Toudai are all the same, aren’t they? Always giving the top students more work!’_

_‘Mm. That’s right.’_

At the time, he was grateful that Ann hadn’t pushed further. After all, she had to keep her own grades up, not to mention her career. But now, after weeks of sleepless nights, weeks of hiding the truth from everyone, he was tired. He felt so tired, so alone, and so trapped, that he wished she had found out the truth right then. But he was in too deep, now. And everyone else was doing well, even Ryuji.

_‘It’s been tough, Kaoru, but with Makoto’s help I’m not even close to failing anything. If I can do it, so can you!’_

He wasn’t supposed to be the one having trouble. He was supposed to be the one everyone came to when _they_ were in trouble. And he… he was supposed to go to Ann when he needed help, wasn’t he?

_‘Mmhm! Ann Takamaki and Ren Amamiya, successful college students, world-famous model, and unbeatable boxer. We’ll push each other right to the top, Wildcard!’_

He couldn’t worry her like that. This was supposed to be their happily ever after; the epilogue to everything they had been through already.

“Tsst-tsst sst!” Three sharp breaths punctuated the same KO pattern that had taken down Hayato Miyazawa, a flicker to a smash to a chopping right. The stopwatch chimed again, this time informing Ren that it was time to return to the weigh-in room at Korakuen Hall.

He was out of time.

>>>

August 12, 2018 (Sunday) 

“Welcome back, everyone!” Jyoji Morikawa, play-by-play boxing commentator for TV Tokyo, smiled enthusiastically at the camera pointed at his ringside table. “I’m Jyoji Morikawa, and joining me for this fight is _Boxing Fan’s_ very own Mari Minoru. Although this is technically one of the evening’s undercard fights, the East Japan Rookie King Tournament’s Welterweight Quarterfinal match has become the most anticipated match of the evening. Wouldn’t you agree, Minoru-san?”

The redhead pushed up her glasses, nodding. “Definitely. First of all, the hype around Ren Amamiya is more than deserved. He seems to grow as a fighter with each match, and so far, none of his opponents have had an answer for him. Second of all, the drama around the weigh-in does create some questions - will Amamiya have the same punching power and speed after being forced to desperately cut weight? And thirdly… this is a rematch.”

Morikawa and Mari watched as Ren’s opponent, Yoshiaki Fuji, made his way to the ring. The Japanese man was Ren’s senior by a year, with close-cropped black hair and a trimmed beard.

“Fuji actually fought Amamiya at the Fall Nationals when they were both in high school.” Mari said. “He was the first victim of Amamiya’s left smash, the punch he adapted from ‘Razor’ Ruddock. He was actually supposed to go pro after Fall Nationals and the Winter Cup, but elected to delay his debut to maintain his eligibility for collegiate boxing. Even though he already passed his pro exam.”

“Why would he do that, Minoru-san?”

Mari smirked. “Rumor has it he wanted to delay his debut so he could force a rematch against Amamiya in this very tournament…”

Sure enough, Fuji was staring down the tunnel leading to the red corner, his face set in grim determination.

“And what do you think is going to happen tonight, Minoru-san?”

“I think Amamiya’s going to show us something new. I haven’t been able to catch up with him in the past few weeks…” Mari paused, barely managing to hide her irritation. After all, Ren _did_ agree to provide her with exclusive interviews. “...But I have heard from his gym mates and coach that he’s been training for this fight like it’s his last. I expect that he’s fully prepared for his opponent. That’s why the results of the weigh-in were so surprising.”

Morikawa nodded. He perked up, watching as Ren appeared, led by Tetsuya Shinoda, Kaname, and another one of Shinoda Boxing’s trainers.

“Well! Let’s see if Amamiya-senshu and Fuji-senshu have any more surprises for us tonight!”

>>>

“Kid! Kid, sit down! Stool’s right there!”

Shinoda and Kaname stood in front of Ren as he sat down on the stool in the red corner. They positioned themselves not only so they could tend to their fighter, but also so they could hide his condition from Fuji and his attendants in the blue corner. The fight had largely been a stalemate - by Kaname’s count, the point total was just about equal as they headed in the fourth and final round of the fight.

As always, Ren’s form was good; his punches were solid. But to Kaname’s eye, they seemed to lack the same sharpness and precision that allowed the raven-haired fighter to take apart his opponent’s defenses and punish them for every single misstep. It was that killer instinct that so frequently gave his opponents pause; in fact, it was Fuji’s prior experience against Ren that made the fighter cautious and stopped him from pressing the issue in the first three rounds for fear of the same counter that finished him in their high school match.

As she evaluated her boxer’s condition, Kaname could see the truth: Fuji’s caution was the only reason Ren had _lasted_ to the final round.

“Renpai…” Kaname murmured, watching as Ren panted. He smiled wanly at Kaname.

“Any advice, Kana-chan?”

Kaname bit her lip. Yesterday’s weigh-in had thrown her completely off her game. The last time Ren had screwed up a weigh-in was when he was just starting his amateur boxing career in middle school - the incident where she ‘introduced’ him to P-chan, his pig-shaped alarm clock. Since then, he had never been that careless - and only in part due to the threat of Kaname’s punishments. Ren was a true student of the sport. He loved boxing. He was always the one fighter that Kaname never really had to worry about. Last year, he was the steadfast captain who led by example.

Guilt and worry overcame her. Had she taken him for granted? While she wasn’t Ren’s primary trainer any longer, she was still part of his corner team. It was her job to watch him, to notice deficiencies and problems before this sort of thing happened. For the first time in their relationship as trainer and boxer, Kaname had no idea what to say… She didn’t even know if she had the _right_ to say anything anymore. She could only watch as Ren stared into space, trying to get his breathing under control.

Shinoda spoke sharply and suddenly, capturing Ren’s attention.

“Listen, Kid. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we’ll sort it out after the fight. We need to focus on the final round. Fuji’s been hesitating the entire time. He thinks you’ve got something up your sleeve, that you being even on points is by design. You’ve got at least one good one left in you, right? So when that bell goes, you need to charge his corner. He’ll think you’re baiting a counter, but you’re going to sock him with a right straight. He’ll never believe you’re punching for real. Knock him into next Sunday.”

Kaname blinked. That plan was crazy, but it could work, despite Ren’s exhaustion. Especially if Fuji was still worried about a trap.

Ren turned to Shinoda, his grey eyes widening in surprise. After a moment, he just smiled tiredly. He chuckled after a moment, shaking his head. “Not like you to suggest something reckless like that, Coach. Not unless you’re trying to light a fire under your boxer, wake him up… Give him hope. I’m… I’m really in trouble, aren’t I? Fuji knows, doesn’t he?”

Kaname’s heart sank. Of course. Coach Shinoda was saying something - anything - to try to get another ounce of energy out of their spent fighter. It might have worked on another fighter, but not one as cerebral as Ren. Not one who studied the sport as much as his trainers.

Shinoda nodded once. “...I think he does, kid. He started to get more aggressive towards the end of the third round. He started leaving openings on purpose to see if you’d bite.”

Kaname glanced over her shoulder. Indeed, Fuji was watching their corner quietly, a confident little smile on his face. She turned back to Shinoda as the veteran coach spoke up again.

“Kid…” Shinoda looked at Ren closely. “You’ve got a long career ahead of you… One fight isn’t--”

Ren’s tired expression vanished; his eyes hardened. “No. Don’t go there, Coach. I’m going back in. Don’t you _dare_ throw in the towel.”

Shinoda frowned. Kaname’s eyes widened; she knew that expression. She spoke up quickly. Although Kaname had given up any romantic aspirations with Ren, she still held the boxer in high esteem. She had faith in him.

“Coach… If anyone can pull a win out of this, it’s Renpai. He hasn’t let us down yet, has he?!” Kaname pleaded. “If we throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble, what kind of boxing team is this?! What kind of trainers are we!?”

Kaname watched tensely as Shinoda hesitated… And then sighed, shaking his head.

“Kid… Do you have a plan? Do you see a way to win this?”

Ren nodded quickly - almost frantically.

Shinoda continued. “If I think you’re going to get hurt in this round, that’s it. I’m throwing in the towel. Do you understand?”

Ren nodded again as he sprang to his feet, seemingly re-energized. Kaname sighed in relief.

“Then get to work, kid.” Shinoda said. The bell rang.

“Seconds out!” The referee called.

Kaname and Shinoda left the ring. Coach Shinoda’s deep voice took Kaname’s attention away from the ring.

“It isn’t the first sign of trouble, Kaname.” Shinoda said, quietly. “We should have seen it. _I_ should have seen it.”

“What… what do you mean?” Kaname asked.

“By the numbers, his record so far is beyond reproach. Two knockouts and a clear decision win. But if you look at the trend… His first win was about as brilliant of a debut as I’ve ever seen. His second win was a knockout too, but closer. Took a few hits, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. His third, the decision… I assumed he never went in for the KO because he was so far ahead on points. I thought it meant he was maturing as a boxer, and that he didn’t want to take an unneeded risk when he didn’t have to.”

Kaname nodded. “I thought so too. Especially since that’s how Mamoru Yamanaka started boxing after his seventh title defense…”

Shinoda shook his head. “What if the reason why he didn’t go after the KO was because he _couldn’t?_ What if the reason why things changed in each fight wasn’t because he was getting tougher opponents, but because the kid’s getting worn down?”

“That’s… that’s impossible.” Kaname stammered, even though she could see the logic. “He’s always done everything we’ve asked him to without complaint. He’s…”

“He’s been the model boxer.” Shinoda said. “He’s been the model boxer despite going to university full-time, despite holding down a part-time job. It doesn’t matter how talented or dedicated you are. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to do all those things perfectly. Something had to give… Something had to give, and we didn’t see it.”

He cursed quietly as the bell rang again to signal the fourth and final round of the Rookie King Welterweight Quarterfinal match. Ren took his usual stance, his shoulders jogging lightly. 

“You were right to ask, Kaname.” Shinoda shook his head. “What kind of trainers _are_ we…?”

>>>

“And there’s the bell to signal the start of the last round!” Morikawa called from the announcer’s table. “So far, it’s been quite a close match! Minoru-san, how are you scoring this so far?”

“Dead even at 29-29.” Mari said. “It’s been an extremely close fight. Fuji’s been understandably cautious, especially after he fell to Amamiya’s left smash in high school. He’s tried to keep his distance to avoid getting hit by a counter.”

“That isn’t his usual style, is it?” Morikawa asked as the two fighters touched gloves.

“It isn’t. And that’s why Amamiya’s been able to keep up with points. Fuji isn’t used to fighting at a distance. What’s surprising is that Amamiya hasn’t outright dominated at this range…” Mari said.

Despite her current role as an objective colour commentator, Mari didn’t want to say any more.

_‘He looks tired. Even more so than the Winter Cup against Miyazawa… More than that, he looks--’_

“A sudden barrage from Amamiya!” Morikawa yelled. “Fuji can’t do anything but guard against a flurry of flicker jabs and chopping rights from Amamiya!”

The crowd roared as Ren suddenly poured it on, forcing Fuji back towards his corner. It was understandable - this display was rightfully considered one of Ren’s typical KO patterns, where he’d bury an opponent with flickers and chopping rights until his opponent’s guard cracked open. The typical fan (and less observant journalist) assumed that the power and precision of the attack was what created the opening. In reality, it was the _timing_. Ren would usually do this when an opponent was mentally worn down, when they were prone to doing something like lashing out with an ill-advised jab or panicked straight to stop the assault, only to eat a vicious counter.

Fuji was neither worn out or panicked. Ren’s punches thudded into his guard; a left smash slammed into his right forearm, held in perfect position to block it. A measured left jab from Fuji cut off the assault, snapping Ren’s head back and ending the combination. A second jab sent him staggering back into the center of the ring, silencing the crowd.

Ren stood there in his usual stance, breathing through pursed lips. His eyes were alive, but his shoulders seemed to sag; his movements sluggish.

 _‘...That was it, wasn’t it, Amamiya? A last ditch assault. But if you’ve got nothing left…’_ Mari’s eyes snapped to Fuji.

The short-haired man smiled grimly. He raised his fists, inexorably closing into his range.

To his credit, Ren didn’t back down. But he didn’t - or couldn’t - utilize his normally fast feet to keep Fuji at his preferred range. Instead, he pulled his left fist back, crossing his arm over his body and face. His right shifted to support his left elbow to bolster the blocking strength and to guard his liver.

“And Amamiya stumbles back! He’s tightening his guard into the cross-arm block! A remarkably defensive stance for a normally dynamic boxer! Minoru-san, what do you make of this?”

Mari shook her head. Put on the spot, she had to call it like it was. Ren wasn’t just tired.

“That last rush… That last rush was probably everything Amamiya had left. He’s tired. And more than that…”

Fuji’s fists slammed into Ren’s guard, quickly forcing the black-haired boxer into the ropes.

“He’s desperate.”

>>>

Yoshiaki Fuji was a serious, no-nonsense boxer. When he fought Ren the first time, he didn’t think much of him. A textbook counter-puncher, and more than that, someone who seemed like a lackadaisical playboy who was boxing with a ‘bad boy’ reputation while dating a model. During the course of the fight, though, Fuji’s instincts screamed out ‘danger’, and rightfully so - Amamiya had proven to be a dangerous boxer, hungry to win. Someone worth respect.

And someone worth fighting again.

So Fuji applied himself to his training, even delaying his plans to go pro to ensure as fast a collision course as possible with Shujin’s former captain.

But this was disappointing. Amamiya’s eyes were alive, and he was desperate to win… But the edge wasn’t there. Fuji had seen it from the first round and assumed it was a trap - so he carefully kept his distance, exchanging points with Amamiya as he felt him out for the first three rounds. But as the match went on, Fuji could see: there was no trap waiting, no explosive counter, nothing.

The rush to start the fourth round confirmed it. It stank of a last-ditch effort to find something, _anything_ before he ran out of gas. Fuji sent a powerful one-two into Amamiya’s guard, knocking him back into the ropes. The feedback in his fists was good; the grimace on Amamiya’s face told Fuji that he had hurt him even through the cross-arm guard.

_‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Amamiya, but it’s too bad. I’ll put you out of your misery.’_

Fuji stepped into his range, hammering Amamiya’s guard with vicious hooks to the head and liver. To his opponent’s credit, Amamiya expertly adjusted his guard to absorb the brunt of the blows, even as each impact sapped his strength. A quick glance at Amamiya’s knees showed him that there was no risk of the normally fleet-footed boxer escaping. Fuji had full control over the young man who had been described as one of the two phenoms of the welterweight division alongside Hayato Miyazawa. All he had to do was keep hammering on Amamiya’s guard, and he’d win on points. Or Amamiya would collapse from exhaustion.

A slight wrinkling in the material of Amamiya’s glove as he tightened his fist. A narrowing of his eyes.

_‘His eyes are still alive. If I try to play it safe, he’s going to come after me!’_

Fuji grit his teeth and dug his feet into the canvas. He had to finish this, had to snuff out the last of his opponent’s fighting spirit. He lost in high school because he thought he had figured him out. Amamiya was too adaptable, too dangerous. He had to put him down, _now_.

Fuji slammed his left fist into Amamiya’s right forearm, still guarding his liver. He saw him tighten his left fist in anticipation of the second part of the 5B-2, down-up combination. Fuji stepped in, throwing a full-power blow from his right - towards the left side of Ren’s body, a 5B-6B combination. In the split second it took for the punch to fly, Fuji’s face contorted into a triumphant snarl. Amamiya’s left fist was still by his face, his forearm closer to his chest than abdomen. He wouldn’t be able to block in time. It made sense - Amamiya had probably scouted him, and Fuji had never used a left body blow, a spleen punch, before. He’d nail him with the body blow, forcing his guard to drop, and then--

_-Crunch-_

Fuji heard the sound before pain washed over him. He clutched at his right hand. He let out a strangled yell and stumbled backwards in confusion. At least, he tried to stumble back - something slammed into his right temple, dizzying him, half-spinning him - and his back struck the ringpost in the nearby corner.

Before he could get his bearings, a storm of synthetic leather obliterated his senses.

>>>

“And an absolutely VICIOUS check hook hammers the aggressive Fuji, reversing their positions! Amamiya summons every last reserve of his energy in this race against the clock! He’s behind on points, but he has Fuji cornered!” Morikawa shouted, rising to his feet. “A left! Another left! ANOTHER LEFT! Amamiya _buries_ Fuji in left hooks and jabs that look like straights, right through a guard that was previously impenetrable! How has the rookie pro solved Fuji?! Fuji is barely guarding with his right!”

“It’s because he can’t.” Mari said, looking at the replay on her tablet. “That last body blow Fuji tried… He landed it. Right on the point of Amamiya’s elbow. I think Fuji’s broken his hand…”

“What terrible luck!” Morikawa exclaimed. “And now the former collegiate boxer is trying to hold out with his points lead as the seconds wind down. Amamiya _must_ knock out Fuji to salvage a win! Will he…”

 _‘Was it really luck…?’_ Mari thought, as she watched Ren lay waste to Fuji. He poured it on with left hooks, jabs, and straights; his right remained mostly idle, serving to parry or block desperate attempts by Fuji to get out of the corner. It also served as a threat of a chopping right, ready to open up the moment Fuji left a gap big enough.

Fuji staggered back after one more attempt to get out of the corner. Mari couldn’t even tear her eyes away from the fight to check how much time was left. Fuji was still standing, still ahead on points.

As Fuji stumbled back, his back to the ring post, Mari’s eyes instantly measured the distance. This was it. This was the distance for Ren’s Sunday punch, his smash to chopping right down-up combination that struck so fast, it was like the jaws of a wolf snapping shut on its prey. Ren’s left lanced forward.

“The bell! That’s the bell, Amamiya!”

The referee leapt into the line of fire, nearly knocking Ren off his feet as he saved Fuji from a blow that would have been milliseconds late.

“That’s it, Amamiya! It’s up to the judges, get to…”

_-Thud-_

Fuji slumped to his knees before falling bonelessly onto his face.

The referee released Ren instantly. “To a neutral corner, Amamiya!”

Mari watched as Ren moved slowly to the corner, leaning heavily on the ropes. His grey eyes seemed dull.

“A last minute knockdown! The referee starts to count… He crosses his arms! It’s a TKO! A dramatic turnaround ends this match! The Wildcard moves on to the next round of the East Japan Rookie King Tournament!”

The crowd went wild.

Tetsuya Shinoda and Kaname Takeda leapt into the ring. Mari raised an eyebrow - Takeda was getting between Shinoda and Ren. Shinoda wasn’t known to be a hotheaded coach. If anything, that was Shinji Takeda’s reputation. But right now, Shinoda was hot, yelling at Ren and gesturing sharply in his boxer’s face. Mari shook her head, looking at the replay on her tablet. Her eyes focused on Ren’s elbow.

>>>

“...who the hell taught you that, kid?! It wasn’t me, and it sure as hell wasn’t Shin-chan!”

“Coach! Coach, Renpai won, isn’t that…”

“I don’t _care_ , Kaname! It’s not _technically_ a foul, but that’s…”

Ren watched with a sort of detached curiosity as Coach Shinoda and Kaname started to argue in front of him. He couldn’t really hear what they were saying over the dull roar of the crowd anymore. Something about what he had done to turn the match around. Shinoda’s anger was fair. An elbow block wasn’t considered illegal according to the written rules of boxing, but intentionally putting the point of his elbow in the way of a punch that powerful, while bracing his body behind said elbow… Ren hadn’t intended on breaking Fuji’s hand, but he had known full-well what the result could be. While it wasn’t a foul, it was unsportsmanlike. Even borderline dirty.

“A boxer’s hands are his livelihood, kid.” Shinji Takeda’s gruff voice cut into his train of thought.

Ren turned. “I know, Coach. But I didn’t see any other way to win.”

He blinked. Coach Takeda was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to Kaname and Shinoda. Their argument seemed to be over.

“...you talking to?” Kaname asked.

Ren shook his head. It was so hard to hear. Hard to focus. “I’m sorry?”

Shinoda took hold of Ren’s shoulders. It was only then that the young boxer realized how unsteady he was. He nodded gratefully.

“...kid. How many fingers?” Shinoda held up two fingers. That was obvious. But still hard to focus.

“T...wo.” Ren said. For a moment, both Shinoda and Kaname looked relieved.

Still hard to focus. Hard to stand. Hard to stay awake. Exhaustion beat at the doors to his mind. He glanced over his shoulder; Fuji was being helped out of the ring. The immediate threat was gone.

His knees buckled. The canvas rushed up to meet him. The last thing he heard before he let consciousness slip away was the sound of Ann screaming from her ringside seat.

“R-ren?! REN!”

>>>

August 13, 2018 (Monday) 

“Remember, Ann. The CT and MRI were both negative, and I poured over the footage from the fight with Takemi-sensei and Minoru-san.” Shiho said, standing at the door to Ann and Ren’s apartment in Nishiwaseda. “He doesn’t have a brain injury. The only thing on his lab tests were dehydration from having to cut weight so fast and the fight. He’ll be _fine_.”

Ann nodded tiredly. “I… I know. You should get home and get some rest. It’s late.”

“Same to you, Blondie.” Shiho hugged Ann. “You’ve had about as rough a night as the Champ did. Call me if you need me, okay? Or if you just need to talk.”

Ann smiled, hugging Shiho back. “Thanks, Shiho. Goodnight.”

Ann closed the door behind her friend. She leaned on it, sighing as she rubbed her swollen, tired eyes before checking the time on the phone in her hands. It was Ren’s - she had confiscated it from him before putting him to bed.

_‘Just after midnight… Six hours at the hospital.’_

After Ren’s collapse in the ring, he had been brought urgently to the hospital. Thankfully, he had perked up quite quickly after the nurses put in an IV. It seemed like the main problem really was dehydration. But that didn’t change the fact that he was a pro boxer who had collapsed in the ring - this meant he had to be poked and prodded and scanned, all the while terrifying words like ‘diffuse axonal injury’ and ‘acute subdural hematoma’ were spoken in hushed whispers just outside the curtains of his emergency room stretcher.

But thankfully, Shiho had arrived quickly to translate the jargon for Ann and Ren.

_‘They’re trying to make sure you haven’t had a brain injury, Ren.’_

_‘I’m fine. I didn’t take any hard clean blows. This is a waste of time. I’m leaving--’_

_‘You aren’t leaving! Please. Please…’_

Ann wasn’t sure why Ren was so desperate to avoid testing, but her pleading and fearful tears had been more than enough to keep him in hospital. As all the tests came back negative, it became clear - it wasn’t the tests that Ren was afraid of. It was the questions.

_‘Takemi-sensei, you didn’t have to come down here. I’m fine. The tests are all negative, so--’_

_‘Amamiya.’_

That had given both Ann and Ren pause. Neither of them had ever heard the doctor call him anything other than ‘guinea pig’ before.

_‘How much sleep have you been getting?’_

Ren’s expression had told Ann everything. Ann sighed. She should have known that her fiancé would overwork himself while she was away or busy. It was hard enough for her to maintain decent grades at Waseda while modeling - Ren had to keep up with a pro boxer’s training schedule while working part-time at Crossroads, all the while working on that summer research project for Professor Suzuki. It was amazing he had been able to keep his grades up before the summer break started.

Ann glanced at the couch.

 _‘Maybe I should sleep there tonight. I don’t want to wake him by accident…’_ She smiled slightly. _‘But he always complains he doesn’t sleep well without me--’_

Ann startled as the screen on Ren’s phone flashed, followed by the soulful tones of a harmonica.

 _Truth is elusive, it’s nowhere to be found_ _  
__Yeah, the truth can never be written--_

She answered the call before it woke Ren up, speaking quietly. “Er, hello? This is Ren Amamiya’s phone. Ann Takamaki speaking.”

“Ah. Takamaki-san… Amamiya-san’s fiancée? This is Ken Suzuki, from the university.”

“Oh! Yes, Professor Suzuki. The one that Ren’s doing extra work for?”

A brief pause.

“...You know about that?” He asked, almost hesitantly.

“Er, yes?” Ann said, confused. Ren had certainly told her about the summer project. “He told me all about it, Professor. If this is about that, I’m happy to take a message for you. He’s resting right now.”

“Ah… You _are_ his fiancé. I suppose that makes sense.” Suzuki said. “In that case, please let Amamiya-san know that I happened to watch the fight tonight, including the end of it. I’m glad he’s resting at home. I’ve worked things out with the dean and faculty committee. He doesn’t need to worry about tomorrow-- rather, today’s deadline. He should focus on recovering.”

Ann blinked. That was odd. The dean and faculty committee weren’t usually involved in academic projects of individual professors. Still, this was Ren they were talking about - he had a way of ending up at the center of big things, and--

“...We can talk about a new deadline for his paper after he feels better. And I’ve managed to push his make-up exam back another week, though I’m afraid I can’t give him another extension, even if there’s another medical issue.”

“Wait! Wait, what make-up exam? What do you mean?” Ann asked. “Isn’t he just working on a summer project for you?”

A much longer pause, this time. Ann felt a cold pit in her stomach not at Suzuki’s next words...

“...Amamiya-san is on academic probation, Takamaki-san. He’s at risk of being expelled.”

...but at the fact that this was Ren.

_‘...You can tell when I lie?’_

_‘How do you think I knew to come back to school?’_

Her fiancé, partner, and love of her life.

_‘No, Wildcard. I can see right through you, remember?’_

The man she knew so well; the person whose heart beat in her chest, and hers in his.

Ann hung up wordlessly, cutting off Professor Suzuki’s last few words as she made her way to the couch. The same couch where Ren took his afternoon naps, the ones Ann assumed were a planned part of his training. His laptop was still open on the coffee table. Before, she never would have dreamed of looking at it. She never saw any reason to. Ren didn’t have anything to hide from her; he had even given her the PIN.

With a tentative hand, she reached out, keying in the number. She only had to read the first few lines of the paper he was working on to see the truth. There was no summer project. Just remedial papers, notes for make-up exams, and a nearly-- no, an _impossible_ schedule laid out to try to accomplish it all. In that instant, she realized how ashamed he must have felt to not even want to tell _her_ about it; how alone he must have been feeling. Numbly, she closed the laptop. She lowered her face into her hands as for the second time tonight, she cried for Ren’s sake.

_‘Look. I don’t know any of your friends in your hometown. But I know you. Right down to your bones, Ren Amamiya.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Kinda. Hopefully more frequent updates as I go forward, here.
> 
> It's funny. I know what's going to happen/have planned it all out, but finding it hard to stay motivated. Part of it is that I don't go to the gym anymore (thanks COVID) and as a result, I'm not hitting the heavy bag or doing stuff that make me think of boxing, I guess. That and I rediscovered interest in video games. And also moved. And also started new job. Hahaha.
> 
> Anyway, notes/thoughts on this chapter:
> 
> The situation Ren's in is I think quite common. I've known people who were high achievers in high school who for whatever reason couldn't make things work in university. Have known people to even go to extreme lengths to hide academic probation (or even hide expulsion) from friends and family. To the point where they continued going to class, even if they weren't registered.
> 
> Hopefully next chapter soon (at least sooner than this one took o.O)
> 
> Italicized quotes at the end are from various chapters of GtD. Again, this highlights why I love writing relationships with context/backstory. It means I can use things like this.


	3. GSP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Georges St. Pierre, or GSP, is widely acknowledged as one of the greatest fighters of all time in MMA (mixed martial arts). Despite his accomplishments and impressive fight record, GSP is a surprisingly philosophical, humble individual. This was highlighted especially at a speaking engagement in Melbourne, Australia, where the fighter talked about one of his losses against Matt Serra. In this fight, GSP was knocked to the ground, and explained that his ego overwhelmed his good sense._
> 
> _“As soon as I got knocked out, I wanted to jump back up and show him.”  
>  The fighter went on to explain that a better decision would have been to guard and recover, and make his decisions from a place of reason, not reaction. Certainly easier said than done, especially when considered alongside another one of GSP’s pearls of wisdom: all fighters are scared before a fight, and if they tell you otherwise, they’re lying._
> 
> _But in fear, lies an opportunity for courage. Though, some people need a little help to see that opportunity._  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon any typos/errors for now. I really wanted to get this out before tomorrow because of RL commitments.
> 
> Some reminders/definitions:

January 6, 2018 (Saturday) 

“Come in, come in!” Inoue Amamiya hugged Ann and Ren as they walked in through the door of the Amamiya _ryokan_ in Kamakura. “What a surprise! You’re spoiling me, Ren. Letting me see Ann-chan twice in the same week!”

The implied question in his mother’s statement was manifest. Why _were_ they here? Only four days ago, Inoue had been in Tokyo to share a New Year’s Day dinner with Ren, Ann, and Ann’s parents. Ren started to speak up, but stalled - he wasn’t sure how to start. Fortunately, as always, Ann caught onto his hesitation and bought him a little time to center himself.

Ann giggled. “It’s good to see you too, Kaa-chan. When Ren said he wanted to visit this weekend, I just had to come along too. You know me. I can’t get enough of your desserts!”

“Ah! Well, you’ll be happy to know we’ve got a good selection right now, both Western and Japanese. I hope you’re hungry!” Inoue smiled warmly. “Now… Ren, you’re always welcome, but what brings you home so suddenly?”

Ren frowned, glancing at a guest wandering by. “Ah… Kaa-chan, we should probably talk in private. We… we need to talk about something important.”

Inoue cocked her head to the side curiously. “Should I get your father, too?”

Ren nodded hesitantly. Although it was his mother he was most concerned about, his father needed to hear what he had to say as well. Ren and Ann went to the family quarters while Inoue went to find the Amamiya family patriarch. Ren sat down at the Japanese-style table in the living room. Ann sat down beside him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“She’ll understand. This is your mother we’re talking about.” She smiled.

“I know, Songbird. I’m fine.”

Ann raised an eyebrow. She leaned over, studying him carefully. “Nope. I can see the tension. Riiiiiight…”

Ren couldn’t help but smile as Ann kissed him right between his eyebrows.

“There. All gone, now.” Ann’s grin softened to a little smile; she stroked his cheek. “Honestly, Wildcard… I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Like I said, your mom will understand. Your parents don’t seem the type to give you too much trouble over something like this.”

“I know.” Ren sighed. “And it’s not like I’m giving up on going to university to go pro. I’m going to do both. It’s just always been Kaa-chan’s dream for me to go to university right after high school, and she knows how tough a pro’s training schedule can be. She might object.”

“Ah… Yeah.” Ann nodded. “That makes sense. What about your dad? How do you think he’ll take it--!?”

“Where are they?!” Kenji Amamiya burst into the family quarters, a huge smile on his face. His eyes lit up on seeing Ren and Ann, both of whom had sprung to their feet in surprise.

“Hey, Oya-ji. How are--Uwah!?” Ren yelped as Kenji swooped down upon him, hauling his son into an uncomfortably tight bear hug.

“Big news that requires a New Year’s visit to your father? With _both_ of you here?!” Kenji laughed. “No need to be coy, kid! I mean, this is a little sooner than your mother and I were thinking, but congratulations all the same! Of course this means you’ll be moving back home after graduation, I take it?! Oh! And you can start working here at the inn! I’ll even pay you fifty percent… no, _seventy_ percent of a regular employee’s wage!”

“Oy..oya-ji! Breathing! Air!” Ren gasped, unable to pry his father’s arms off himself. “The hell are you talking about?! Is this dementia or something?!”

To Ren’s continued surprise, Kenji let the age-related insult slide. Instead, he released his son to turn his attention to Ann. Her eyes widened as he reached for her. Thankfully, instead of a bear hug, Kenji gently held her by the shoulders, looking at her warmly.

“And Ann-chan… You’re just _glowing_. So much like Inoue-chan, back when we were expecting.”

Ann’s eyes bulged. Her face turned red. “E-e-expecting?!”

“Well, yes! Isn’t that the big news? When’s the due date? You’re not showing at _all_ , so it can’t be too soon. You can have the wedding here at the inn! I’ll even give you two a twenty--... _ten_ percent discount--”

_-Thwack-_

Kenji cringed as Inoue’s white oak practice naginata tapped him none-too-gently on the top of his head.

“ _Ken-san_ .” Inoue smiled, though her eye twitched slightly. “I just told you they had news, _dear_ . Just because you really like the idea of grandchildren doesn’t mean that _that’s_ the news. ...Right?”

Ren felt a chill as his mother looked at him. Though she still smiled, he would have been a terrible fighter if he didn’t notice how Inoue wasn’t putting away her naginata just yet. “R-right, Kaa-chan. That’s not the news.”

Inoue’s smile returned to its usual dazzling warmth. She headed into the kitchen, exchanging her naginata for a tray with tea and some snacks. “Then, let’s all have some tea while we chat.”

They sat back down. Ren stared quietly at his tea for a moment, wondering again how to start.

Ann squeezed his hand; he looked up at her. She nodded towards Inoue. His mother gave him a reassuring smile.

“...I came to a decision recently.” Ren began. “I’ve been struggling with it all year, and after the Winter Cup, I was ninety-percent sure. Then watching Yamanaka fight on New Year’s Eve… That was the last thing. Next year, I’m not going to join the Waseda collegiate team. I’m going to go pro.”

Kenji grinned. “Hah! Not a new addition to the family, but still pretty big news, kid. I can’t say I’m surprised. Hell, that Winter Cup fight had _my_ blood boiling.”

Ren nodded, but his eyes were on his mother. She was looking at him thoughtfully. She started to frown.

“...I’m still going to Waseda!” Ren said, quickly. “I’m going to work with Coach Shinoda, Coach Takeda, and Kana-chan to figure out a training schedule that’s workable. And I’ll limit my part-time job at Crossroads to just a few shifts per month. I’ve got enough money saved to make sure that I won’t need to work more than that.”

“If you’re not joining the boxing team, doesn’t that mean you won’t be able to get into Waseda on recommendation, Ren?” Inoue asked.

“That’s true, Kaa-chan.” Ren said. “But I’ve been studying hard this year anyway. I’m confident I’ll do well enough on my entrance exams to get in. And once I’m in, I’ll get in touch with my professors before the year even starts, so I can start reading ahead. I can make this work.”

Ann smiled. “ _We_ can make this work.”

Ren watched as Inoue quietly considered everything he had said. It wasn’t that he was afraid she’d forbid him from doing this, or that she’d cut him off from any support from their family. She wasn’t that kind of parent. It was just that with everything that had happened in second year, the last thing Ren wanted to do was disappoint her or worry her.

“Is this really what you want, Ren?” Inoue asked.

“It is.” Ren replied.

“Then we’re both behind you. Just make sure you do your best. Make us proud.”

Ren sighed in relief. He nodded. “I will.”

He wanted to glance at Ann again, but it was difficult to focus on anything but his parents. Rather, his mother. Somehow, it felt like they were alone at the table. The surroundings seem to fade away to black. There was just him, the coffee table, his mother. Her smile faded. The anxiety Ren felt turned into dread, clenching his heart.

“Then why are you failing?” Inoue asked, holding up one of his final papers from the spring term. Blood red ink marred the A4 paper.

“I… I haven’t failed yet!” Ren said, desperately. “I just need more time!”

“You don’t have that. You can’t have any more time.”

He couldn’t see her anymore. He couldn’t see his father. He couldn’t see Ann.

“They can’t help you anymore.”

“No!”

Ren tried to turn away, tried to find them. He couldn’t. An invisible weight pushed on his shoulders, keeping him kneeling at the table that was now covered in stacks of either incomplete or failed papers, all written in something that _looked_ like Japanese. But, he couldn’t understand any of it. No matter how much he read, how much he struggled. He was alone. Completely alone. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t--

>>>

August 13, 2018 (Monday) 

Ren’s eyes opened. He didn’t wake with a scream or a gasp. That particular dream was too familiar by now. As was the feeling of dread that lingered in his chest.

 _‘There used to be a time where I’d wake up from a nightmare and feel_ **_relief_ ** _.’_ He thought, smiling bitterly. A time when he would dream of impossible situations and monsters, things that couldn’t exist in the waking world. Now, though, he felt just as alone here as did in his dreams.

Slowly, he sat up, letting the sheets slide off his bare chest. He rubbed his face wearily, glancing to his right. He blinked - Ann’s side of the bed was completely undisturbed.

 _‘Must have decided to sleep on the sofa…’_ Ren sighed. _‘Probably worried that she was going to wake me up.’_

He slipped out of bed. He reached for his phone on the nightstand. He had to turn in one of his remedial papers to Professor Suzuki. Ren had intended on waking up early to give it one more read-through and edit, but according to P-chan (his pig-shaped alarm clock), he had less than an hour before the deadline.

Ren’s hand stopped in mid-air. _‘Right. Songbird confiscated my phone to make sure I got to sleep. She’s probably still asleep… Should be able to send it in without her noticing anything.’_

He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans before heading into the living room. To his surprise, Ann was already awake and seated on the couch. It was the summer break, and Ann didn’t have work today - usually she enjoyed sleeping in on days like this.

“Oh, you’re up? Morning, Songbird. Sorry you had to sleep on the sof...a…” Ren trailed off as he really looked at her. Her eyes were red and shadowed. The blanket they left on the sofa for naps or snuggling up while watching movies together was still folded. “Ann… Ann, what’s wrong?”

Ann didn’t meet his eyes. Her voice sounded brittle. “...Professor Suzuki called you last night.”

The dread that had quietly gnawed away at Ren’s heart over the past months turned into a crushing grip.

“Oh. That late? Probably wondering about the project.” Ren said, carefully. _‘Find out how much she knows. This looks bad, but she might not know everything.’_ “I… I’ll give him a call back.” He tried a smile, tried to act normal.

His smile disappeared the moment she looked at him. Tears brimmed in her blue eyes.

“Enough. Enough, Ren. I know. I know _everything_.” Ann shook her head. “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

Ren started to lie. But he knew that had no chance of success. Not anymore. The only reason he had gotten away with this for so long was because Ann’s focus was rightfully directed on her own classes and career; because she was assuming he was doing fine.

“...Almost since the start of the spring term.” Ren said, quietly. “My first few papers and midterms were passing grades. But as things became busier, I couldn’t keep up. I’ve been on academic probation since Golden Week.”

Ann’s eyes widened - Ren wasn’t sure if it was out of concern for him or outrage at the lies. He hoped for outrage. He wanted her to stand up, to yell at him. To be upset with him. It was what he deserved, and moreover, it would be easier to handle than if she…

_‘You aren’t crying because you’re weak. You’re crying because you care. You care so much that it hurts. Do you know how rare that is? How hard it is to find someone with that kind of compassion?’_

“Oh, Ren…” Ann murmured. She stood up, closing the distance. Of course she wouldn’t pick outrage. Her overwhelming compassion, her capacity to _feel_ was one of the first things the boxer had learned about his fiancée. His breath caught as she put her arms around him, hugging him as his own hands hung limply.

“I should have seen it.” Ann said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I…”

Ren couldn’t hear her. The guilt was overwhelming his senses. He had failed, had _lied_ , and now Ann was taking that failure on as her own. He felt his heart fracture. He pushed her back, his hands on her shoulders. His smile was small; tight.

“It’s fine, Songbird.”

It wasn’t fine.

“Professor Suzuki’s been really great. I’ve got a schedule worked out for the summer that should get me off academic probation.”

It wouldn’t be enough time.

“I know I cut it close last night, but I’ll be in shape for the next one. Really, it’s not a big deal.”

It was a matter of time before he got injured or worse.

Ann shook her head. She cried freely now as she spoke. “No. No, Ren. Why are you still lying to me?! I… I’m sorry, but I logged onto your computer! I saw your deadlines, your schedule! It’s impossible!”

“...You saw my computer?” Ren asked, quietly. The remedial papers. The make-up exams. His shame laid bare. He glanced at the coffee table as his phone chimed; an alarm telling him he had ten minutes before the deadline. Numbly, he walked past Ann, picking up his phone as she continued to speak.

“It’s not even about your grades! What if… what if you get hurt boxing because you’re too tired or distracted?! You’ve said it yourself that pro boxing’s dangerous!”

Ren opened the app, sending the paper in. He wasn’t angry at Ann. He had given her the PIN to his laptop, after all. A tactical move on his part, back when he started running into trouble with his course load. If she believed he had nothing to hide, then she’d have no cause to look, after all. Even less cause to ask. But the cat was out of the bag, now. He had to think of another play, another--

He froze. When had he fallen this far? When did he start seeing the love of his life as a mark to misdirect? He was utterly, completely trapped. He had to get out. Out of this situation and conversation first, then out of everything else.

“I’ll be fine, Ann.” Ren said. “Really. I just sent in a paper. Then--”

“Then you have make-up exams. Then more papers. Then training. Ren… You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” Ann asked.

She saw right through him. Always did.

Ren’s voice hardened. “This is _my_ problem. I got myself into this, and I’ll get myself out.”

Ann shook her head. Her fists were clenched at her hips. “We’re a team, Ren. We’ve been over this before, back in second year! You’re supposed to come to us for help! You’re supposed to come to _me_ for help!”

“This is different.” Ren said. That was true, at least. But he didn’t dare say why. He moved to collect his laptop. The paper was just one thing done. There was more to do. Even this conversation was time he didn’t have.

“It isn’t different!” Ann said. “Why won’t you let anyone help you?”

“Because I can handle this, Ann.” Ren said, through a clenched jaw. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for _anything_.

She put her hand over his, preventing him from picking up his computer. She didn’t respond to his irritation. Instead, her eyes were pleading. Compassionate. Full of love that right now, just added to the weight on his shoulders.

“Please, Ren. Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you let me help? Why--”

“ _Because I’m not the one who’s supposed to be failing!_ I’m not supposed to be the one having trouble handling everything! I’m not the one who’s supposed to let people down! _”_ Ren snapped. “It’s…”

He closed his eyes. He had already said too much.

“...who is it supposed to be, Ren?” Ann asked, quietly. 

Far, far too much.

“Who was supposed to fail? Who was supposed to let people down?” Ann let Ren take his computer. He stuffed it into his messenger bag, along with his notebook and phone. “Ryuji? _...Me?”_

That was really it. That was the bare truth of it. He was Ren Amamiya. Former captain of the revived Shujin Boxing Team. Class valedictorian. Former leader of the Phantom Thieves, who had once _shot a god in the face_ . He wasn’t supposed to be the one who fucked up his weigh-ins, who flunked out of university, who could now barely play _All The Things You Are_ without missing a note at his part time job, despite it being one of the first songs he learned. Everyone was supposed to come to him with their problems, not the other way around.

In his heart of hearts, he had thought Ann, juggling a modeling career along with her business degree, would fail before he did.

“...We’re a team, Ren.” Ann murmured. The tremble in her voice told him that this time, ‘we’ meant the two of them. Even if he couldn’t rely on the others, he was supposed to rely on her. He was supposed to have faith in _her_.

He wanted to turn to her. He wanted to hold her, to take away the brittle note in her voice.

Instead, he went to the door. He put on his coat, and left. He told himself it was because he had too much to do. He told himself it was because right now, he didn’t have the emotional, mental, or physical energy to spare.

The elevator’s door shut behind him. He rested his forehead against the cool metal wall.

Lying to himself was about as effective as lying to Ann.

>>>

August 17, 2018 (Friday) 

“Ryuji, can you hand me the socket wrench?” Makoto held a hand out as she worked on the engine of an electric yellow Yamaha R6, currently parked in the garage of her part-time job at a motorcycle shop in Asakusa, not too far from her apartment.

Ryuji was studying nearby at a folding table. He blinked, looking at his girlfriend’s toolbox. It was neatly organized, but there were _many_ socket wrenches. “Uh… Which one?”

“Twenty millimetre.”

“...” Ryuji shrugged helplessly at Makoto when she turned to look at him. She chuckled, standing up as she wiped at her brow with her forearm and walked over. Ryuji casually closed his binder. “Sorry, Makoto. There’s a lot of tools in there.”

“It’s fine, Ryuji.” She leaned down, picking out the appropriate wrench. She then glanced at his notebook. “All finished?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah. Totally.” Ryuji smiled. “All studied up.”

“Uh huh. So did Saitama pass the exam for his Hero license?” Makoto asked, as she tightened a few bolts.

“Yeah! He pretty much screwed up the written exam, but the physical testing--...Crap.” Ryuji smiled sheepishly. He opened his binder, revealing a manga volume - _One-Punch Man_.

Makoto walked over, collecting the manga.

Ryuji closed his eyes, already cringing in anticipation of a spine-bonk to his forehead. He was pleasantly surprised at the soft touch of his girlfriend’s lips as she kissed the aforementioned forehead instead.

“Silly.” Makoto took a seat at the table with Ryuji. “You don’t have to hide it, you know? Summer break in university isn’t like summer break in high school. We don’t have reading assignments like we used to at Shujin. You can read all the manga you want. In fact, you should be out doing something fun, not hanging out with me in a stuffy garage.”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck as he blushed faintly. “I dunno, Makoto. This _is_ fun for me. How many guys have a genius biker chick for a girlfriend? I like watchin’ you work.”

Makoto raised her eyebrow skeptically. She was wearing coveralls, and had her hair, now much longer than it was in high school, tied back in a lazy ponytail. “You’d better not ask me to wear this when we’re alone at my place, Ryuji.”

Ryuji raised his hands placatingly. “I won’t, I won’t… ... _Although_ …”

Makoto rolled her eyes, now giving him the light spine-bonk with the manga volume. “Seriously, though. You don’t need to hang out here.”

“I really do like it, Makoto. This place is awesome.” Ryuji grinned, before sighing. “...And it kinda beats the atmosphere everywhere else right now.”

Makoto’s smile faded. “...Yeah. That’s true.”

On Monday, Shiho had called up Makoto and Haru to meet her at Ann’s place. Ann had been too frantic on the phone with Shiho to divulge many details, but it sounded like the couple that rarely fought had a fight. A bad one. Ren had walked out. And whatever it was, it was deeply personal - while Ann had been grateful for the support and company of her friends, she wasn’t willing to tell them what the fight was really about. All they could get out of her was that it hadn’t gotten physical (not that they would ever suspect Ren would do something like that), and all they could do was reassure Ann that surely Ren would come home soon.

So far, they were wrong. Ren had instead holed up at his old place above LeBlanc for the past couple days. Ostensibly to ‘focus on his summer research project’. But according to Futaba, the boxer wasn’t doing much of anything other than checking his phone or staring blankly at his computer. It seemed the two simply weren’t talking.

So since Monday, it felt like a pall had settled over the group. It was unsettling, to say the least. Ren and Ann had become something of a constant for the Phantom Thief family. Ren had helped Ann find her other self, trusted in her to break free when it mattered most. Ann had pulled Ren back from the brink in the fight against Akechi, and then again in the last battle against the God of Control. And most impressive, at least in Ryuji’s mind, Ren had helped Ann get a good grade in something other than English. For the two of them to be at odds with each other like this seemed impossible.

“...Maybe that’s the problem.” Ryuji mused.

“What is?” Makoto asked.

“Ah, just thinkin’ about Ren and Ann.” Ryuji said. “I mean, we all kinda took it for granted that the two of them are just… well. The _two of them_ , y’know? Maybe they did, too?”

“Maybe.” Makoto sighed.

“I mean, fighting with someone and making up after is a skill.” Ryuji said.

Makoto smirked. “Are you trying to say that you leaving that red sock in with my white clothing was a _good_ thing?”

“H-hey! I replaced all of those! And now you have a set of pink clothes you didn’t have before!” Ryuji said defensively.

Makoto chuckled. “Relax. I think I know what you mean, Ryuji. If you never fight, then you never really learn how to make up, either. But I wonder if this is more complicated than that?”

“Seems like it.” Ryuji said. “When I checked in on the guy, he didn’t want to talk about it. What about her? Do you know why she hasn’t?”

Makoto frowned, shaking her head. “...She won’t say. All she’ll tell any of us is that she’s ‘figuring out what to do’, and that she’ll text us to let us know if she needs help or if she’s figured something out. But it’s been four days--”

The brunette pulled her phone out of her pocket. She blinked, and then smiled, looking relieved. “Speak of the devil. She says that she’s figured something out. ...Doesn’t need our help, though. Hm.”

“Kills me to admit it, bein’ RenRen’s best friend and all, but Ann knows him better than anyone.” Ryuji said. “Nothin’ to do but trust her.”

“Agreed.” Makoto said. She glanced at the motorcycle. “Anyway, I’m all done here.”

Ryuji whistled appreciatively. “Man. That’s a nice bike, Makoto. Who’s it for?”

“Funny you should ask.” Makoto smiled, placing a set of keys on the table. “Remember how I said your _real_ birthday present was going to be a little late?”

Ryuji’s jaw dropped. “...What?! For real?!”

Makoto grinned. “Had to wait until you passed your motorcycle exam last week, and I wanted to put some finishing touches on the bike anyway.”

“I… wow.” Ryuji mumbled. The lightning-yellow coloring was no coincidence, apparently.

“Really makes up for the sidecar incident--” Makoto began.

“--Which totally never happened.” Ryuji said, glancing side to side, and over his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Makoto giggled. “And you totally never looked adorable, pouting in a sidecar.”

“ _Anyway_.” Ryuji sighed. “...I hope whatever Ann’s got planned, she does it soon. I’m not sure Ren’s even stepped outside of LeBlanc to train. At least Futaba’s been keeping an eye on him…”

>>>

“Futaba, behind you!” Mona hissed, his hair standing on end as he peered over the orange-haired girl’s shoulder from his perch on the bed in LeBlanc’s attic.

Futaba grinned fiercely, not even a little concerned. She was sitting on the floor with her Switch, playing online against a few victims players. “Got him right where I want him, Mona~”

Mona cringed in sympathy as Futaba’s character - also an orange-haired girl - abruptly turned to face the last remaining opponent, a young man wearing green shorts and boxing gloves. In a flurry of moves and splatters of paint, Futaba didn’t even let her opponent touch the ground as she executed an increasingly complex combination, her fingers nimbly flying across her controls. Her opponent was hammered off screen, culminating in a brightly colored explosion.

“GAME!” The speakers on her Switch chimed.

“Ehehe. That’s what he gets for bringing a trash tier fighter to go with trash tier skills. Too bad the boxer character in this is pretty weak, Ren-nii.” She grinned, glancing over her shoulder. 

Ren was lying on his side, the blanket pulled nearly over his head. He had his back to his friends, as he usually did when they were over. It was that, or staring numbly at a blank document on his laptop. Futaba’s smile faltered for a moment; she exchanged concerned glances with Mona before returning to her game.

“Should I go for another match, Mona? If I win another, I’ll have enough points to get another costume for the Mii Fighter…”

Mona flicked his tail. “I guess? I’m not sure why you collect them, Futaba. You always pick the same character anyway.”

“Well, duh. Inkling’s the best in the current meta.”

“...You pick that one because she’s the best? Not because of… you know…” Mona cocked his head to the side. He eyed the orange-haired character on Futaba’s screen, and then the orange-haired girl sitting in front of him.

Futaba blinked, looking at Mona. “Why else would I pick her?”

“...Nevermind.” Mona shook his head. He glanced at Ren again, looking like he wanted to say something.

Futaba reached up, lightly stroking Mona’s head. She shook her head imperceptibly. This was actually _progress_ . Earlier in the week, Ren had tried to pretend everything was business as usual. For the first day, it had Futaba, Sojiro, and Mona fooled. But then Makoto had texted Futaba, and more than that, Ren didn’t seem _right_.

At least now, Ren had stopped pretending, even if he hadn’t said anything to them. Futaba hoped it meant he was feeling comfortable enough to let his mask disappear; she hoped that her plan had worked.

>>>

August 15, 2018 (Wednesday) 

“Tou-san… Is Ren-nii still up there?” Futaba asked. It was early Wednesday morning at LeBlanc. Normally she wouldn’t even be awake yet during the summer break, but Ren hadn’t gone back home to his and Ann’s apartment since Monday.

“Yeah…” Sojiro sighed, shaking his head. “He came down, got some breakfast, and went back upstairs. He’s still saying something about having to focus on his project, but it’s pretty clear that isn’t even a fraction of the story, now… He won’t tell me anything more, but…”

“But…?” Futaba bit her lip.

“He’s acting like he did when he first came to Tokyo, Futaba. Before you met him. He was… Well.” Sojiro frowned, looking meaningfully at Futaba.

Futaba nodded. “It’s okay. He… he was like _me_ , wasn’t he? Before I met everyone?”

Sojiro nodded. “I even asked him for advice on what to do about you, Futaba. Because I had a sense of what he went through… He said that he was fine, on most days. But even during that summer, there were still days where he didn’t want to get out of bed. And the only reason he did was that because the people around him were still trying, even when he didn’t want to. It’s why I started sitting down outside your door to talk to you, remember?”

_‘...So, Futaba. It’s okay if you want to give up, sometimes. Because I’ll be here to try for both of us. I promise.’_

Futaba cracked a little smile. “Y...yeah. I remember. I never told you… that really helped, Tou-san.”

Mona, seated on a bar stool, meowed, his tail lashing. “Then I’ll talk to him! I can’t stand to see him like this! I’ll drag him out of this! He’s still our leader! And can you imagine how worried Ann-dono is?!”

Mona tried to jump off his stool to make a beeline for the stairs. He yowled as he was caught quickly by Futaba. She shook her head, firmly sitting Mona down in her lap.

“No, Mona. You saw how he was yesterday, when Ryuji came over to check on him. Ryuji meant well, but when he started pushing him for details, Ren-nii just… closed himself off.” Futaba said, stroking Mona’s back. “...I know what that’s like. Sometimes, when people show they care like that, it makes it even harder to let yourself… ...well. Be yourself.”

“Then what do we do?”

Futaba sighed, shaking her head. She was a second-year high school student, not a psychologist. “I don’t know. But we can’t just run up there and tell him to cheer up--”

_‘...this is your life. There are things that happened to you. It’s your right to remember what you want. It’s your right to feel however you want. You’ll never hear me telling you to ‘be brave’, or to ‘cheer up’. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to shout, shout. If you need to fight, fight.’_

He was Joker, at the time. Standing in the shattered stone of the pyramid roof, just moments before he ascended to rejoin the battle against the Sphinx. He hadn’t said it at the time, but she had heard it anyway, implied at the end of his speech.

_‘...And we’ll all be there for you, no matter what you choose to do.’_

“...I think I know what to do.”

>>>

August 17, 2018 (Friday) 

When the Phantom Thieves were hanging out with Futaba after her post-Palace stupor, she had gravitated to Shiho and Ren. Every one of them were good people; she counted them all as her family, now. But Ren and Shiho were the only two that treated her like a normal girl right from the start. They didn’t look surprised when she started joining in conversations; they didn’t act like there was something about her that needed fixing, even though they all knew she had a long way to go.

But _that_ was therapeutic. Having someone who spoke with you like you weren’t an emotional wreck, even though you were. Having someone who saw you as a friend to have fun with, a little sister to tease, a rookie team member to show the ropes. It gave Futaba hope that one day, things really would be normal. That things really would be _good_.

And so, she hoped to do that for Ren. While the others tried to get Ren to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, Futaba just wanted him to feel _safe_.

Eventually, he stopped pretending around Futaba. And then, Mona. Futaba glanced back at him. He was either sleeping, or staring at the wall. She turned back to her Switch.

“Ah, just one more game--”

Ren sat up.

Futaba blinked, smiling at him. “About time! I had a feeling you’d have something to say about me trashing Little Mac.”

Ren shook his head. He smiled faintly. “Just thirsty, Futaba.” He paused, looking at the two of them. “...Would one of you mind--”

Mona perked up, his eyes wide. This was _definitely_ progress “I’ll get it!”

He shot out of the attic, a black and white blur.

“...He didn’t even wait to find out what I was going to ask for.”

Futaba grinned. “Well. He’s limited to whatever he can carry in his mouth, and whatever doesn’t need opposable thumbs. Speaking of thumbs…”

Futaba reached into her bag, fishing out another controller and an HDMI cable. “Want me to hook this up to the TV you left here? I can show you how boxing’s inferior to a paint roller--”

“...Why are you doing this, Futaba?” He asked, quietly.

“Well, playing against people online is kinda boring now, and--” Futaba began.

“You know what I’m asking.” Ren stared down at the blanket. He rubbed the stubble on his cheek. He looked tired - a kind of exhaustion and hurt that Futaba knew very well. For a moment, Futaba was taken aback. She had met Ren in the summer of his second year, well into his recovery and resurgence. She always had the sense he ‘knew what it was like’, but he always seemed bold… sometimes invincible. Looking at him now was startling; he seemed… _small_.

“...Because you did the same for me, Ren-nii. Because you’re my family.” Futaba replied. She put her Switch down, and sat on the edge of the bed. “I… I never told you, but the way you and Shiho acted around me… It gave me hope. I wanted to do the same for you. I wanted to show you that you can feel safe. You can talk or not talk. It’s up to you… Just…”

She paused, unable to think of the right words. So she borrowed someone else’s.

“I don’t know what’s happening to you, Ren-nii. But it’s okay if you want to give up, sometimes. Because we’re all here to try _for_ you.”

“...That sounds like something out of a bad self-help book, Futaba.” Ren said, a wry smile crossing his weary face.

Futaba raised an eyebrow. “That makes sense. Sojiro said that.”

Ren chuckled, briefly. He glanced at Futaba, before looking back at the blanket.

“...Futaba, I fucked up. I really, _really_ fucked up.”

Futaba listened quietly as Ren slowly started to speak. Slowly turned into a rush as the floodgates opened. He told her how the year had started well; how he quickly found himself overwhelmed with the coursework and his boxing career. How he had pressed forward out of shame and fear of failure. How he had refused to ask anyone for help out of a deep sense of hubris. How he felt utterly and completely trapped.

How he was now drowning in guilt for not only having concealed everything from the one person he was supposed to confide in, but also for feeling jealous, even spiteful of Ann’s success.

“What kind of person am I, really? I’m supposed to be happy for Ryuji. I’m supposed to be _ecstatic_ for Ann. But all I can think about is how it isn’t fair… About how this isn’t how it was supposed to happen.” Ren shook his head. “I’m… I…”

Futaba shook her head. She stood up and closed the attic door before returning to Ren’s side. She squeezed his hand. “Ren-nii…”

He looked at her. Futaba took a deep breath.

“I… I want you to say the _worst_ thing you’re thinking right now. The absolute worst.” Futaba said. “No one’s here but me. Not even Ann’s going to hear this. So… Get it out.”

“...I wish that I wasn’t the one who was failing.” Ren murmured, after a long moment of hesitation. “I wish that it was Ann, or Ryuji, or Shiho. Anyone but me.”

Futaba nodded, slowly. “...Two years ago, right before I met you guys, the worst thing I wished for was for the entire world to disappear. For everyone to die and disappear, past, present, and future. So that way, my mom wouldn’t have been born. I wouldn’t have been born. So there would be no chance I would ever have to feel the way I was feeling.”

Ren frowned. “Futaba, we all know you. You wouldn’t ever _really--_ ”

“I did. I really did.” Futaba took off her glasses, wiping at her eyes. “It’s… it’s really important to me to accept that I did. ‘Cause… ‘cause that’s how I _felt_ at the time. And that’s okay. Things happened to me… things happened to _you_. It’s our right to feel however we want. No one is allowed to tell us what we need to feel to get past the difficult times. You’re the one who taught me that.”

Ren bit his lip, seemingly unconvinced.

Futaba continued. “...Just because I _feel_ something, doesn’t mean I actually _want_ that. I didn’t want everything to disappear. I… I just wanted my depression to disappear. And you don’t want them to fail, do you?”

Ren shook his head. “I… I just don’t want to feel this guilt anymore. I don’t want to feel trapped anymore.”

Futaba nodded. “...And we all want to help with that. But I think there’s someone who’s _really_ worried about you by now.”

Ren sighed. “I’m not sure how to start, Futaba. I walked out on her. I can’t just walk back in and ask her for help. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do about all of this--”

Ren’s phone chimed.

**AT: Hey, Wildcard? Can we talk tomorrow? Maxell Aquarium, at 10?**

Ren looked down at his phone, hesitating. He startled as he seemingly replied, despite not touching the screen.

**RA: I’ll be there**

Ren looked up at Futaba.

She smiled, waving her own phone. “Gotchu covered, fam.”

Ren started to protest - he then shook his head, chuckling. The chuckle turned into honest, cathartic laughter. The surrogate siblings collapsed against each other, laughing enough so that tears streamed from both of them. It ended with Futaba hugging Ren, smiling against his black long-sleeved tee.

“...I’m glad to have you back, Ren-nii.”

“Thanks for bringing me back, Futaba.”

There was a quiet scratching at the door.

“Mmrrrr gwuys? Can you hwurry and opfen thuh door? I think I’m gonna drop this bottle--crap! Sojiro! Look out!”

“Huh. What are you meowing about now--!!”

A loud thud and crash.

“What kind of cat rolls a bottle of soda down the stairs so I can trip over it?! There’s Coke Zero all over the place! Ren, Futaba! Get down here!”

>>>

August 18, 2018 (Saturday) 

It was a sunny morning in Tokyo, but it was already fairly busy at the aquarium. After all, it was a Saturday during summer break for most schools, and it was a popular choice not only for young couples, but also families looking to spend some quality time together during the holidays.

Ren frowned, searching the crowd outside the aquarium for Ann. Usually it wasn’t that difficult to find her - not only did her dazzling looks make her stick out, but she was becoming popular enough that people actually recognized her. For that matter, Ren was starting to have that problem as well as he advanced further in the Rookie King Tournament. It was much easier for Ren to go incognito than it was for Ann, though. A pair of sunglasses was enough to conceal his identity from all but the most rabid fans.

 _‘Where is she?’_ Ren chewed on his lip. _‘...Did she stand me up?’_

“So _that’s_ what you look like when you’re out for a date with Ann-chan.” A familiar voice chirped.

Ren whirled; his eyes widened. “Kaa-chan?!”

Inoue Amamiya stood there in her pink cardigan and blue skirt, eyeing Ren head to toe. Ren felt strangely self-conscious in his fitted blue tee, black bermuda shorts, and red Converse shoes. Inoue paused at his aviator glasses, reaching up to brush at his stylishly messy hair.

“...You look like the sort of boy that mothers warn their daughters to stay away from, Ren.” Inoue said.

Ren shook his head. “Coming from my mother, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”

Inoue continued, smiling nostalgically with a little giggle. “...In fact, you look just like your father did, when we went out on dates.”

“Welp. Insulted it is.” Ren chuckled, despite his mood. He paused, looking around. “Is Oya-ji here, too?”

Inoue shook her head. “No. The aquarium was pretty clear after the gift shop incident. Lifetime ban.”

“Probably for the best…” Ren said. “Why are you here, then? I’m supposed to be meeting Ann.”

Inoue shrugged, taking hold of Ren’s elbow. “I’m sure she’ll be along soon, Ren. Why don’t we go in?”

She didn’t give him a chance to protest, starting to walk with a gentle insistence towards the entrance. Ren found himself automatically keeping pace. His mother had always been like this - she was a martial artist of small stature, and so simply had a way of making larger people _move_ the way she needed them to. Whether it was an opponent or one of her ‘boys’.

“Oh, my. This place has really changed!” Inoue looked around, wide-eyed. She gasped, pointing out the underwater viewing window to the otter exhibit. “Ah! But at least your favorites are still here!”

“Yeah…” Ren smiled, watching as one of the curious ocean-doggos swam by the glass, peering at the mother and son. “I think the last time we were here together was the gift shop incident, actually. The day I met Ann before I knew she was Ann.”

Inoue nodded. She stood on her toes, trying to look over the crowd. “Actually, I think that was right… over there!”

Ren’s mother, still holding onto his arm, eagerly led him over to the children’s play area. It was bigger than it used to be, but still included little tables, crayons, and paper. At the start of the aquarium’s day, the area was empty - none of the young families wandering around needed a break just yet. Inoue sighed.

“To think that your grand romance started right over here.” Inoue shook her head. “And your father made me miss it!”

Ren smiled slightly. “To be fair, if the past you had known, you might have blown it by trying to take pictures.”

Inoue smiled. “That’s true.”

They stood silently for a moment, alone in the area filled with brightly colored toys and decorated with pictures of cartoonish sea creatures. Ren sighed quietly, understanding that now was the time to talk.

“Kaa-chan… why are you here?”

“Ann-chan called me, Ren.” Inoue said. She turned to lean on the half-wall enclosing the play area, looking out at the otters. “Though, I was already planning to come see you today.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say a mother knows when something’s wrong.” Inoue said. She patted Ren’s hand as he leaned on the wall as well. “I watched your fight.”

Ren nodded. “...Sorry.”

Inoue smiled wryly. “My only son is a professional boxer. If you’re going to apologize for worrying me, then you’ll be spending more time saying ‘sorry’ than you will training.”

“Right…” Ren sighed. “Then… I’m still sorry. For… ...Well. How much did Ann tell you?”

“Enough.” Inoue said. “But she also said you’d probably like to tell me yourself.”

Ren nodded. He started from the beginning, like he had with Futaba. It helped that he already had that as a test run. And strangely, it helped to have said the ‘worst thing’ he had been thinking. It was like casting an exorcism, reducing the weight on his broad shoulders enough for him to tell Inoue everything.

“...And then I walked out on her.” Ren said, shaking his head. “So I’m sorry, Kaa-chan. I let you down. I… I couldn’t get anything done this week. There’s no way I can catch up, now. Even if Professor Suzuki’s managed to get me another extension.”

The background murmur of the aquarium crowd became almost deafening in Inoue’s silence. After a long moment, she nodded once to herself, her eyes still on the otter exhibit.

. “...Ren, do you remember what I said to you? After you told me that you were going to go pro, but still go to university?”

_‘Is this really what you want, Ren?’_

_‘It is.’_

_‘Then we’re both behind you. Just make sure you do your best. Make us proud.’_

“You told me to do my best. To make you proud.” Ren murmured.

Inoue shook her head, patting her son’s arm.

“I’m not surprised that’s how you remember it, Ren. When you told us your plan, you looked like your heart was going to burst. I didn’t say ‘make us proud’. I said ‘you’ve _made_ us proud’.” Inoue smiled. “I wasn’t lying, then. And it’s still true, now. We’re so proud of you, Ren. That’s never changed. Not when you were on probation, and not now.”

Ren blinked. “But… it’s always been your dream for me to go to university. To get a degree. If I don’t withdraw, I’m going to flunk out.”

Inoue nodded. “It was… But, dreams are fickle things, Ren. They change. When you were with Reiko-chan, I dreamed of the two of you taking over the inn one day, and raising your family right under our roof. When I met Ann-chan, I dreamed that she’d help you find your smile again, your sense of self-worth again… When you told me you were going to propose to her, I dreamed of beautiful black-haired, blue-eyed children running around underfoot whenever their famous parents decided to come visit us in Kamakura.”

Inoue turned to Ren. She smiled warmly. “...But all of those dreams, they come from the same _hope_ I have for you. The same one I had the day you were born, Ren-chan.”

Ren blinked, taken aback slightly by his mother’s use of his old pet name. For a moment, he felt like a little boy again.

“...I hoped you would grow up to be a good man. A good man who has friends so close they might as well be family… who knows right from wrong…” Inoue turned to him, reaching up to take hold of him by his shoulders. “And most of all, I hoped you’d grow up to be a good man who deserves to love and be loved.”

Ren shook his head. “Kaa-chan, I lied to everyone for months. I lied to _her_ for months. And then when she tried to help me, I--”

“Ren-chan…” Inoue hugged him. “If you’re beating yourself up so much over this, wouldn’t you say that makes you a good person?”

_‘I… I have to apologize, Takamaki-san. I’ve found some evidence that the school covered up what Kamoshida did. I honestly didn’t know. But I suspected. And I didn’t do anything to help… I really am a selfish, terrible person.’_

_‘...A real selfish person would never say that.’_

“...Heh.”

“Ren?” Inoue peered up at him curiously.

“Ah… Nothing. You just reminded me of something Ann said to someone, once.”

Inoue chuckled. “I’m not surprised. I’m glad you’ve found such a good young woman to settle down with. When she called me, she asked me to come and speak with you because she _knows_ you. You and your tendency to make deals with people. She said that the most important person for you to speak with was me, to make you understand that we never really _had_ a deal. I don’t need you to go and get a university degree right this second. I want you to do what you feel you need to do. And I want you to have a plan for what you’re going to do _after_ your boxing career is over.”

Ren frowned. “Won’t you worry?”

“I’m your mother, silly.” Inoue cracked a smile, patting Ren’s cheek. “If you were a librarian, I’d still find a way to worry about you. Now, come on. They’re going to feed the otters. You won’t want to miss that.”

>>>

Inoue checked her wristwatch on the way out of the aquarium. She smiled up at her son.

“That was fun, Ren. Thanks for letting an old woman pretend to be young for a little while.”

Ren raised an eyebrow before shooting a glare at a group of college-aged men who were staring in naked admiration at the petite woman’s dazzling smile. He rolled his eyes. “Right. ‘Old’. Are you heading back home, then?”

Inoue nodded. “Yes. It’s still the busy season at the inn, after all.” She paused, a look of concern replacing her smile. “Do you have an idea of what you want to do, Ren?”

Ren nodded slowly. “...I do. I’m not sure how I’m going to start, but I do. How did you get here, Kaa-chan? I should at least take you to the train station.”

Inoue shook her head, letting go of her son’s arm. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve already stolen you away for enough of the day. And I think your _real_ date’s waiting for you. Tell everyone I said hi, Ren. And remember that your father _means_ well.”

Ren frowned. “‘Means well’? ...Wait. What did he do?”

“Nothing important! Bye~”

Inoue walked away, an amused smile on her face. Before Ren could consider the implications of that statement, there was another weight - a _very_ familiar one - on his arm.

“Hey, Wildcard.”

Ren startled. “Ann! Ann, I…”

He trailed off as he turned to look at her. Maybe it was the profound relief he felt at seeing her. Or maybe it was how much he had missed her.

Or, more likely, it was the way she looked in her white and blue sundress, complete with a ribbon-adorned floppy hat that was failing miserably at hiding the model’s identity. Her smile was brilliant.

“Had a good talk with Kaa-chan?” Ann asked.

“Y-yeah.” Ren said, regaining his senses. “I did. Look, Ann. There’s a lot I have to say… A lot I have to do. So much that I’m not sure where to even start--”

Ann nodded, hugging his arm. “I know. I’ve got it covered, Wildcard. Come on. We’ve got a tight schedule to keep.

“What? Schedule? Where are we going?”

Ann’s smile seemed to make the weight on his shoulders seem even lighter.

“First of all, Waseda University. You’ll probably want to talk to Professor Suzuki, won’t you?”

Ren blinked. He then shook his head, smiling. “Right…”

>>>

“Are you sure about this, Amamiya-san? Despite the difficulties you’ve been having, I can see your potential in your work. Your ideas are good, they just need more time and polish.”

Ken Suzuki looked across his desk at Ren. The grey-haired professor had seen his share of promising students drop out of Waseda’s rigorous journalism program - unfortunately, it took more than just having good ideas to make it through the curriculum. Suzuki didn’t take every struggling student under his wing, but Ren’s first few assignments had intrigued him. It would have been a shame to see the young man drop out.

But here he was, giving the professor his sincere thanks for all of his help - along with a letter of resignation.

“I’m certain, sir. I know that technically, I don’t need to submit a letter to you in order to withdraw. But it seems only right, after everything you’ve done for me.” The black-haired youth smiled.

“...You know, I was going to argue with you a little longer, Amamiya-san,” the professor began, “...but that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that in months. I can’t deny that this seems to be what you truly want.”

Ren nodded. “Thanks for understanding. ...I wish I could have made it work, Professor. I really do find journalism interesting. It’s just not where my heart is right now.”

“I think I can understand that, Amamiya-san.” Suzuki chuckled. “Not quite the same thing, but my father wanted me to go into actuarial science. He nearly had a heart attack when I started writing for the school paper instead. In any event, stay as safe as you can. I’m not a big boxing fan, but even I know that a pro boxer’s career is short. You’ll need that brain of yours afterward. Keep Waseda in mind if you decide to go back to school. There’s plenty of mature students around here, these days. It wouldn’t be unusual.”

“I will.” Ren stood. “And thanks for watching my fight the other night. I’ll try to put on a better show next time.”

Suzuki waved a hand. “I just wanted to see what was so important that you were willing to risk expulsion. Like I said, I’m not a big boxing fan.”

Ren nodded. He bowed formally, and left the room.

Suzuki sighed, placing Ren’s letter in his desk drawer. It really was a shame. The professor clenched his fist, smiling slightly.

_‘Though, I have to admit I’m a bit jealous. If I were young again…’_

>>>

“How did it go?”

“Better than I expected.” Ren sighed. “I feel… lighter.”

Ann smirked. “Proooobably because you forgot your bag, Wildcard.”

“Ah. Crap.” Ren turned around, knocking as he opened Suzuki’s office door. “Sorry, Professor. Forgot my bag--...”

Suzuki was standing in an approximation of an orthodox boxing stance, having just executed a one-two combination against his jacket, hanging from the coat tree in the corner. The tree rocked back and forth gently on its legs; Ren and Suzuki stood frozen in a tableau as they stared at each other. Ann peered into the office, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

The coat tree fell over. Ren coughed, collecting his bag.

“...Nice straight, Professor.”

Suzuki coughed as well, quickly straightening the coat tree. “Er… yes. Ah, Amamiya-san, wait a moment… I don’t suppose…”

The professor smiled sheepishly.

“...I’ll send you some tickets.” Ren flashed a winning smile, waving. “I’ll look forward to seeing you in the stands, sir. I’ll show you that this was the right choice for me.”

Ann and Ren left, politely suppressing their laughter until they were out of earshot.

“Hehe… Better than what _I_ expected, too.” Ann giggled. She nearly ran into Ren as he stopped abruptly; he caught her in his arms.

“Songbird… Thank you. I don’t think I would have had the courage otherwise.” Ren said.

She smiled up at him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You knew what you wanted to do. I’m just… facilitating.”

 _‘Has she always been this beautiful?’_ Ren thought. _‘Have I been so stressed out that I forgot? Or have I just missed her this much…?’_

He leaned in… and ended up kissing Ann’s _Suica_ subway pass. She grinned impishly, lightly tapping the plastic card against Ren’s nose.

“Not yet, Wildcard. Tight schedule, remember?”

>>>

Ren sighed, standing outside the Shinoda Boxing Gym.

“Right…” Ren shook his head. “Need to face the music. I haven’t trained at all this past week. And I still haven’t gotten lectured for how the last fight went. Not to mention how I’ve been hiding everything from Kana-chan, Coach Shinoda, _and_ Coach Takeda…”

Ann patted Ren’s hand reassuringly. “And Kana-chan hasn’t had a chance to scream at you about screwing up your weigh-in. Don’t forget that.” She added, _not_ so reassuringly.

“...Thanks for the reminder. Aren’t you supposed to be supporting me?” Ren asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re welcome~” Ann sang. “And I _am_ supporting you. But I get to be a _little_ angry with you, you know?”

Ren bit his lip. “Ann, I--”

She lit her finger on his lips. “Like I said, later. You can make it up to me - rather, you can make it up to _us_ later. For now, we’ve got something to do, right?”

Ren smiled at Ann’s choice of words - _Us. We._

“We do.” Ren pushed the door open. The gym was busy - Shujin Boxing was there today. They were done training, but were packing up equipment to go to a summer training camp tomorrow. The club was now big enough to justify two trips - one to Kamakura, which happened earlier in the summer, and another one to the mountains.

“Hey, hey! Aniki! Anesan!” Shou waved.

Eiji grinned, looking up from his task of winding up skipping ropes. “Former Captain Amamiya! Co-Captain Aikawa welcomes you! Hey, if you’re not doing anything, can you he--Ow!”

Kaname casually rapped the top of Eiji’s head with her shinai as she passed by. Despite her stature, she somehow stared Ren _down_ \- and then brusquely nodded at Shinoda’s office. “We’ve been expecting you. Come on.”

Kaname led Ren and Ann to the back. Tetsuya Shinoda was seated behind his desk. He stroked his walrus-like moustache as he considered his fighter. Kaname spoke up first after a long silence.

“Condition?”

Ren nodded. “Not one-hundred percent yet, but--”

“Not asking you.” Kaname said, sharply. She looked at Ann. “Condition?”

“His heart’s in the right place, now.” Ann smiled. She squeezed Ren’s hand. “I think he’s ready to be one-hundred percent present.”

Ren nodded. “That’s right. I’ve withdrawn from Waseda. I… it was a mistake to try to do both.” He paused, licking his lips. “I… I have to admit, I took university _and_ boxing for granted. I didn’t afford either of them the respect and attention they deserved. They’re both full-time jobs. I realize that now.”

“Good.” Shinoda said, finally. “Frankly, I’m amazed you got as far as you did with the amount of stress you were under. As your trainers, we should have seen it as well. But from now on, we’re all going ahead with eyes open.”

“Yes Coach.” Ren said. “I haven’t done any training this week, so I’ll make sure I really go for it next week--”

“ _Absolutely not_ !” Kaname snapped. She glared up at Ren, sticking the tip of her shinai into the soft spot behind his chin. “I asked Ann-nee about your spirit. Your _physical_ condition is plain to see. You had the crap beaten out of you, even if you won. And you fought completely dehydrated after you screwed up your weigh-in. _And_ you’ve been completely sleep-deprived and stressed out for God knows how long! You’re resting today. You’re resting next week. You’re resting until I _say_ you’re not! And to keep an eye on you next week, you’re coming into the gym anyway. As an assistant manager.”

Ren grimaced. There was no such real position at Shinoda’s. Assistant manager, or ‘ass man’, was the gym’s inside joke for a boxer or trainer who had earned punishment in the form of menial tasks. Still, there was only one response.

“Yes Coach!”

“Good. Then you’re released to the supervision of your jailer.” Shinoda chuckled, nodding to Ann.

Ren and Ann started to leave.

“Ah, Renpai. Wait a second. Two things.”

Ren turned. “Yeah, Kana-cha--oof!”

Kaname hugged him. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

Ren glanced at Ann. She shrugged, smiling.

“...Right. I won’t. Sorry, Kana-chan.”

The office door opened. “Hey, Coach Shinoda? We’re out of--...Kana-chan? Senpai…?” Kaoru stood there, staring blankly at the scene in front of him. His girlfriend, hugging her former crush and childhood friend.

Kaname startled “K-Kaoru! I… I wasn’t--”

Kaoru barged ahead, his eyes full of concern. “Senpai! Are you okay?! I saw the fight! I’ve been really worried. Don’t… don’t do that again, okay?”

To Ren’s mild amusement/horror, Kaoru opened his arms for a hug.

Kaname intercepted, grabbing the hood of her boyfriend’s sweater, dragging it over his head, and wrenching the drawstrings shut to close it over his face. “Seriously, Kaoru?!”

Ren and Ann quickly exited.

Ren sighed. “Also went better than I expected. Kana-chan’s really mellowed out. The last time I messed up a weigh-in, she--”

“Hey! Renpai!”

Ren turned. He paled. Kaname held up his bright pink, pig-shaped alarm clock. P-Chan now dangled from a sturdy leather cord. Kaname grinned.

“I said _two_ things, didn’t I?”

>>>

“Are we going home yet?” Ren asked, slouching. As if the slouch would somehow help conceal the alarm clock dangling from his neck.

“Look, Mama! That man’s wearing a piggy clock!”

Ann grinned, snapping another picture as Ren scowled. “Not yet, Wildcard. This is incredible. I’ve never seen you _sulk_ like this before.”

“Laugh it up, Songbird.” Ren said. He chuckled ruefully. He had to admit, it really was funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten to mess around like this. “Where _are_ we going, then?”

“Just one more thing to help you set your head straight.” Ann took out her phone, checking both LINE and her navigation app. They came to a stop close to a surgeon’s clinic in Nishiwaseda, the same neighborhood that Ren and Ann called home. “He should be right here.”

Ren frowned. “Outside a clinic? And who?”

“Hey, Amamiya. What’s up with the pig clock?”

Ren turned. His eyes widened at the sight of his most recent opponent, Yoshiaki Fuji. “Fuji-san? What are you doing here?”

“Incision check on my hand.” Fuji raised his right fist, showing Ren the back of his right hand. “That elbow block of yours broke my second metacarpal. Got a pretty awesome plate and screws in there, now. Lemme show you the x-rays. One sec…”

Fuji took out his phone. He grinned, bringing up the image. “See? Thankfully, the commission won’t make me take it out when I get back into the ring-- the hell is with that look on your face, Amamiya?”

Ren frowned. “Fuji-san, that was my fault. I broke your hand. I…”

“Don’t apologize.” Fuji said, sharply. “You and I are professionals, Amamiya. We don’t apologize when we break a guy’s face. Why the fuck would we apologize when we break someone’s hand? If you apologize, it makes it seem like I was just standing there letting you beat me up. Or it makes it seem like you broke my hand on purpose. Did you?”

Ren shook his head. “No. I did what I had to do to win. You pushed me to that point.”

“Good. I did what I had to do, too. Just that this time, you came out on top.” Fuji grinned. “We’ll see what happens next time though, eh?”

Ren slowly returned the grin. “...Heh. Yeah. We will.”

Ren’s senior nodded approvingly. As he walked past Ren, he clapped his shoulder with his left hand.

“Good. If you really feel you owe me, Amamiya… Then beat the _shit_ out of the next guy. Show ‘em that no one pushed you as far as Yoshiaki Fuji did.”

Ren and Ann watched the boxer go. The couple started walking home.

“...Thanks, Ann.” Ren said. “I needed that. All of that. I didn’t even know where to start, but you put all of that together…”

Ann shook her head. “It was a team effort in the end, Wildcard. All the friends that visited you, trying to get you to talk… Futaba-chan and Mona, making you feel safe. Boss, letting you stay at LeBlanc, no questions asked. Without everyone, I don’t think you would have been ready to do everything we did today.”

“But how did you know who I needed to speak with?” Ren asked.

Ann smiled. She paused, turning to him. She reached up, stroking his cheek. Ren sighed as she finally kissed him, soft and lingering. “I’ve told you before, remember? I know you, Ren Amamiya. Right down to your bones.”

Ren nodded as they continued walking, hand in hand. “It’s a miracle I managed to hide all of this from you for so long.”

“Well, I was in and out of town a lot.” Ann said, thoughtfully. “But in hindsight, there were a few things that should have tipped me off…”

“Like what?” Ren asked. “Ah. Well, we haven’t really had a date night in weeks. Even when you were in town, I was always busy or tired.”

“There _is_ that, but…” As they stepped into their building’s elevator, Ann started idly playing with Ren’s fingers as she held his hand. She peeked up at him from under the brim of her sun hat. Ren immediately recognized the mischievous little sparkle in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow.

“But what, Songbird…?”

“Ah, well. You know. I kinda just chalked it up to you being tired from training, so I didn’t want to say anything buuut…”

Ren frowned. “What are you… …”

She smirked.

Oh. _That_.

Ann shrugged. “But, don’t kick yourself too hard, Wildcard. I mean, it’s not like you _couldn’t_. It’s just that it wasn’t as--!!”

Ann shrieked/giggled as Ren scooped her off her feet and carried her over his shoulder, into their apartment. For this, he knew _exactly_ where to start.

>>>

Later in the evening, Ann slowly woke up. Before she even opened her eyes, she smiled dreamily at the feeling of Ren’s heat against her side. The two of them had fallen asleep on the sofa after the boxer had hauled her into their apartment, and ‘made up for lost time’. Ann opened her eyes, watching Ren sleep for a moment. He seemed to be having what was probably his first restful slumber in a long time. She adjusted the blanket they shared before settling in against him again. 

“Mm… Ann?” Ren murmured, stirring.

“Ssh. You can go back to sleep, Ren.” Ann kissed his cheek.

Ren shook his head. “I’m pretty awake.” His arms shifted around her; his finger traced a line down her spine before he lightly squeezed her backside, earning a little gasp from Ann. “ _Really_ awake.”

Ann moaned quietly as he pulled her onto his lap, starting to kiss at her neck and chest. “Ah… How have you not had enough…?”

Making up for lost time had meant bending her over the kitchen counter… And then taking her again on the couch, where he had made her ride him. An unusual way to describe it, but apt. He had gripped her by her waist, effortlessly lifting her up, and then plunging her down onto him. Although he was certainly still tired, it seemed resolving some of the stressors in his life had _really_ gotten him going again. Not to mention the teasing in the elevator.

Ren paused, kissing her deeply. He looked into her eyes as she rested her forehead against his, nose to nose. “Never.”

Ann giggled. “Lucky for you, I feel the same way…” She started to shift on his lap, positioning herself so that her knees were on either side of his thighs-- Ann winced. “...Ah. Well… The spirit is willing, but the flesh is sore.”

“Sorry.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not. Your eyes smirk even when your lips don’t, you know?”

Ren flashed that rakish smile at her - the devil-may-care grin that always seemed to capture her heart.

Ann tilted her head, just looking at him. Ren’s grin softened to a curious smile.

“Songbird…?”

Ann shook her head; she kissed him before moving to snuggle up against his side again, rather than sitting on his lap. “Just realizing I haven’t seen you smile like that in a while, Wildcard.”

Ren nodded. “It really does feel like a fresh start… Speaking of which, what do you want to do?”

Ann leaned forward, picking up the remote off the coffee table. “Let’s stay in. You’re supposed to be resting anyway.” She turned the television on; it defaulted to a DVR’d episode of _Dynamite Glove_ , TV Tokyo’s boxing program, from a few days ago.

Ren nodded, stretching. “You’re right. Been a busy day today, anyway… I can’t believe you organized all of that.”

“Like I said, it was a team effort. And your mother was on the way into town already.” Ann said. She frowned as the television started showing clips from Ren’s fight. “Should I change it?”

Ren shook his head. “Not really paying attention, anyway.” He paused. “She mentioned that, actually. That she knew something was wrong just from watching the fight. I wonder what it was specifically?”

Ann blinked. “...You mean, she didn’t tell you?”

Ren shook his head. “No. She just said ‘a mother knows when something’s wrong’. Then we talked, and… …she said Oya-ji _means_ well.”

A brief pause.

Ren turned to look at Ann sharply. “What did that old bastard _do_?!”

Ann kept a studiously straight face. “Uhm… You know how your parents sent you a new pair of boxing trunks after you won your third fight?”

“...Yes…?” Ren said. They had arrived in the mail; Ann was away at the time, but Ren had texted her about it.

Ann bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “Well. When I talked to your mom, she mentioned that it was actually your dad that sent them, without her knowledge. And that she was _really_ surprised that you wore them. The trunks, combined with the fight, kinda told her something was really wrong. Here. It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Ann took hold of the remote. She waited for an opportune moment in the fight, when the camera was focused on Ren’s back - she hit pause.

In professional boxing, there were no regulations against advertising on a fighter’s garb, be it their robes, gloves, or trunks. Most fighters in JBC competition preferred to go without, or if they did, it was fairly tasteful.

Ren stared at the television in horror as he read, emblazoned across the ass of his black and red trunks in bold kanji:

 _‘Visit the Amamiya Ryokan! Don’t get left_ **_behind!_ ** _’_

“You must have been really tired and stressed out to not notice, Wildcard. At least it’s kinda clever.” Ann said, nodding with exaggerated earnestness.

“...”

“You see, because it says ‘behind’.”

“...”

“Which is funny, because it’s printed on your ass.”

“...”

Ann openly grinned at Ren, now. She patted his cheek consolingly. “At least the advertisement’s on a _nice_ ass, Wildcard.”

>>>

August 18, 2018 (Saturday, in Kamakura) 

Kenji Amamiya gasped, waking up in a cold sweat in the bed he shared with his wife. He sat up, shivering. He had been having one of his favorite dreams about being able to pay for groceries with pro-wrestling moves, when a feeling of _overwhelming dread_ had jarred him awake.

He wasn’t a martial artist like his wife, or a refined boxer like his son, but even a scrapper like him could recognize the monstrous _sakki_ that transcended both distance and time. Kenji looked over at his wife, who was sleeping soundly. He reached over to her, shaking her gently.

“In...Inoue-chan…”

“Mm…?” She turned to him, her eyes fluttering half-open.

“I think the kid knows, now. And I think he’s going to _kill_ me.”

Inoue considered this for a long moment. She then nodded, turning back onto her side. “Mm… probably.” She yawned. “Good luck, Ken-san. I’m going back to sleep...”

Kenji stared at Inoue with a look of abject betrayal and abandonment as his loving wife started snoring lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidecar incident: The vacation/trip that Ryuji and Makoto took in the summer of Ryuji's third year at Shujin. I never got around to writing this side story, but it's heavily implied in GtD:XR that Ryuji ended up spending the entire trip riding in a motorcycle side car. This is because Ryuji messed up the rental/licensing for himself, haha
> 
> On Futaba: It's a bit jarring to see her this eloquent/willing to speak up, but bear in mind that we've timeskipped a lot here. She's now into her second year, and has her own circle of friends at school, plus Kana (not Kaname) via distance. Little Gremlin's growing up.
> 
> Ren's brief foray into doing university with pro boxing: Why did I want him to fail, here?
> 
> Because both things really are a full-time job. He's a smart guy, but he can't make more than 24 hours in a day. Moreover, he doesn't use his support system very well. He learned in GtD to not get roped into everyone else's problems/over-volunteer for things... But he never learned the lesson that this applies to his things, too. That just because they're 'his' problems, doesn't mean that he can handle it. 
> 
> And he has developed some amount of hubris, here. As he points out, he's supposed to be the guy they can all rely on, not the guy who fails.
> 
> As for other reasons why he's exiting university... As I said before, in my old drafts, I ran out of steam in the college years. I think the reason why is because college didn't really drive the story well for this AU. Boxing does. So less books more facepunching :P


End file.
